The Hobbit and the Thundercat: Stones and Omens
by RogueFanKC
Summary: When Gandalf offers Lion-O and Bilbo Baggins an adventure with a company of Dwarves to reclaim a lost kingdom, why not? After all, adventures meant fun, heroism, and a chance for Lion-O to find his family and discover his past. Even though Mumm-Ra is now in Middle Earth, this will be a battle of good versus evil, like the fairy tales! And all fairy tales have happy endings, right?
1. Sins of the Father

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters to "Thundercats" and "The Hobbit", for those are the property of Ted Wolf, Rankin/Bass, and Warner Brothers Studios. Special thanks goes to the artist/fanfic writer Bloubell who created the cover image for me (and it is also available on her Deviantart webpage). I will be basing this on the 2011 "Thundercats" series and the Peter Jackson "The Hobbit" movies, although do not be surprised to see elements from "The Hobbit" book and the animated film and "Thundercats" comics and the 1980s series. This fiction is also available on AO3 and you can keep track of this fan-fiction's progress on my Tumblr account. With that said, I hope you all enjoy...**_

**Chapter 1: Sins of the Father**

"_**Drown it!**_" hissed Claudus in seething rage, his eyes narrowed and shaking in anger.

Jaga was actually stunned, his solemn and calm demeanor melting into horrified surprise. The elderly Thunderian Cleric had served the royal family for almost two centuries with unwavering loyalty and honesty. After all the experiences and wonders and knowledge he had ever witnessed over the years, Jaga thought that there was very little nowadays that could truly set him back.

How wrong he was.

The jaguar was grateful that his shock did not cause him to drop the wailing bundle he was cradling in his arms.

"Your Majesty, you cannot mean that!" Jaga finally managed to protest.

No, this was not how the Cleric would ever imagine how this happy occasion could spiral into the worst possible situation he could ever dare imagine in his wildest nightmares. King Claudus could never be capable of something such as this!

"I do mean it! Take the baby out of the boundaries of the kingdom and kill it! Go past any village where not even the lizards would dare to tread and leave no trace that this cub ever existed!" exclaimed the lion violently as he abruptly turned around, almost as if unwilling to rest his eyes on the newborn a second longer.

With a powerful growl of anger and grief, King Claudus managed to send the midwife and nurses scurrying as fast as they could out of the royal bedchambers. This left the King, Jaga, the newborn, and the young cub Tygra alone with the prone form of Queen Leona on the giant feather bed.

Jaga couldn't help but feel his breath stuck in his throat as he looked upon the body of the lioness with Tygra holding his mother's limp hand against his own paws. Tygra was massaging her palm as if trying to bring the queen back to life by sheer force of will.

Poor Tygra. Knowing his mother for only a short time only to lose her. And Queen Leona was not only beautiful, but soft-spoken, gentle, kind, and had a way to comfort and appease even the stormiest of tempers from her husband. Her death would be a great loss to all of the Thunderian cats in the city.

Unfortunately, Queen Leona's passing hit her husband the hardest.

King Claudus looked at the still body of his wife, his head slightly drooping towards the floor in grief. He was doing his best to not cry, to be strong for Tygra who needed to see that he still had his father left in this world, that he was not alone, and that they would carry on the best they could, as Leona would have wished.

Jaga tried again to reason with the King.

"Your majesty, do not do this! Think of your Leona's wishes! She risked everything to bring Lion-O into this world! She loved this babe because he was special to her! The Queen would not want you to turn away her newborn like this! Your wife had Lion-O because she wanted him to be born, to be a part of the family!"

"My wife is dead! Do not dare tell me what she would have wanted! Leave, and allow both Tygra and myself to grieve!"

"Leona would not want you to turn away your future heir, your son who can continue your heritage, your bloodline and legacy!"

But that was exactly the wrong thing to say. Claudus let out a guttural roar of rage and agony from his wounded heart. It echoed so powerfully in the room that Tygra cowered and whimpered against the head of the Queen's bed, and Jaga would not have been surprised if everyone within the palace could hear the cry of anger. Claudus whirled on his Head Cleric, his cape swirling violently against his broad shoulders and armor, and Jaga could see the spittle gleaming against his teeth, the King's eyes like burning coals and wide with temporary madness.

"That is enough!" bellowed King Claudus, "_**How dare you blaspheme?!**_ It is Tygra that shall be my future heir, the only Crown Prince and a son I would gladly name as my flesh and blood! This…this babe robbed me of my life, my dear Leona, one of the few beings on this Earth who could ever complete me in body and soul! This child is an accident! I cannot bear seeing it a moment longer! Go! And do away with it!"

"Your majesty, stop! Please!"

But Claudus had enough.

"_**Jaga…**_" growled Claudus, his voice now low, dangerous, and penetrating, as if he was about to strike, and with that warning tone, the elderly jaguar knew that he had to cease and desist. He was wise enough to know when the King had been pushed past his boiling point.

It was done; no words could help appease this situation. Not even the Ancient Spirits of Light could change the resolute decision of the King in his grief and blame.

When the King spoke again, it was with cold ice pricks, dangerous and deadly.

"You are my trusted advisor who has assisted and guarded the royal family for decades, even before my time and my father's time, loyally and faithfully. You never held back your honesty and always spoke for the best of the Thunderian kingdom, even if the truth was painful to acknowledge. I would be proud to call you my friend. It is this, and only this reason, why I do not strike you down where you stand, for if you were any lesser Thunderian, you would be thrashed beyond belief."

King Claudus took another ragged breath, quivering, before he spoke again, sending dread and pain into new depths of Jaga's soul.

"Kill the babe and hide any evidence of it. Erase any and all trace of its existence. Do not give it to another family in this world to raise as their own. I need it gone, done away with, so it can never trouble me with its presence. It is a suitable punishment for how it took dear Leona away from my life and Tygra's life, for how it unfairly lives while my dear wife does not. Do it. _**Please.**_ That is an order."

Jaga went pale.

There was one second of a tense, sorrowful silence. The two seconds.

With a slight bow and within a blink of an eye, Jaga disappeared, running as swiftly as the wind and invisible, invoking a small burst of air and dust in his magical wake.

Shoulders drooping in fatigue and not sure if he had much strength to remain standing any longer, the King of Thundera half-shuffled to the bed as if drunk before sitting heavily on the feather mattress next to his deceased Leona. Dazed, befuddled, drained, and fatigued, the lion humanoid drew the tiger cub in his powerful arms and squeezed him close against his body, with the young prince feeling the sobs of pain quaking against his father's chest.

"I'm sorry, Tygra," choked Claudus, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Your mother cannot be with us any longer."

Tygra, with his tear-stained face, just watched the very spot the Head Cleric disappeared with his brother. He did not say anything, but he buried his face into the comforting musk of Claudus' beard.

* * *

Mumm-Ra chuckled as he watched this from his shallow scrying pool, the murky waters glowing with the image of King Claudus and Tygra mourning over the Queen's death. Satisfied that the King's newborn would die before morning, he ended the spiritual divination, and the sallow-faced mummy hobbled away to the shadows, planning the next step in his goals with the statues of the Ancient Spirits of Evil looking down in stony appeasement.

It had been far too easy…

* * *

He couldn't do it.

Ancients Spirits of Light help him, but he couldn't follow King Claudus' order.

Jaga couldn't help but let his eyes, baggy with wrinkles, shed a small tear as Lion-O let out a small sigh, snuggling against the silk enveloping him for warmth. The desert air at night was precariously freezing, but thankfully, they were at the edge of the Sand Sea, and there was no living being Jaga could sense within miles of his position on the cliff.

It would be so easy now. The baby could not swim in the churning sand, and within seconds, Lion-O would be swallowed within the crushing medium of liquid rock and pebbles and suffocate a relatively quick death with no one the wiser. The King of Thundera would be satisfied in his revenge against the one who caused Leona's death, and everyone would be allowed to continue their lives as if the child never existed.

And yet…

Jaga cradled Lion-O dearly against his slender, aged frame as his beard fluttered and tangled itself against the baby in his arms, shivering internally as he wearily sat down into a lotus position upon the rocky outcrop.

Jaga needed to calm down, forcing himself to relax. He needed to think.

Jaga could not possible leave the newborn with another family. Not only would it be a risk that Lion-O would possibly be abused or have a difficult life growing up in poverty or squalor, but everyone on Third Earth would recognize a baby lion.

King Claudus was both an admired and infamous ruler who not only oversaw one of the richest and plentiful kingdoms on the planet, but he also had many emissaries and connections to the neighboring provinces of the Dogs, Birds, and other races. It was universal knowledge that the only lions were part of the Thunderian royal family, being descendants of Leo back in the Dark Ages with Mumm-Ra. The baby's telltale red-hair, fur, and breed would be incriminating.

No matter how distant and isolated Jaga could go to hide the babe, it would be impossible for Lion-O to go out into the open. No disguise could last forever.

Sooner or later, when Lion-O grows up, his identity would eventually be surmised and discovered. Tongues would wag, rumors would spread far and wide, and Lion-O's life would be in grave jeopardy, either by Claudus' himself once he would discover his son was still alive or by one of the many enemies of Thundera such as the Lizards or the Rats, hoping to use Lion-O as a weapon or an easy kill.

_Do not give it to another family in this world to raise as their own._

Jaga smiled grimly. Let it never be said he didn't follow that command to the exact letter.

With a few whispered words, Jaga invoked a magical sphere of translucent light to surround himself and Lion-O, their bodies engulfed with soft, warm tones of yellow, peach, and white. With another flash, both Jaga and Lion-O entered the astral plane, a conduit and medium that traversed through all life on Third Earth and beyond, probing and meditating intently.

Although time had no definition in the astral plane, Jaga felt as if he remained searching for hours and hours, his staff in one hand and the Thunderian child cradled in the nook of his other arm.

And like branches of a tree, the astral plane had strands and paths that were interconnected to many worlds, many realities, many planet and realms of light and darkness in a harmonious and balanced beauty. Everywhere and everything, it had a connection to this ethereal conduit.

Jaga observed any and all he could stumble upon.

A planet called Alderaan with various races and a Council of warriors amid robots, technology, and battleships?

No, it sounded far too violent for Jaga's taste. He would not want Lion-O to grow up knowing only about war.

A hidden, magical school called Hogwarts residing in a beautiful countryside and sea?

No, Lion-O would stand out even more. There was simply no way he would not be ostracized among a planet of humans.

A land of multicolored, talking ponies ruled by two benevolent alicorns that raised the sun and the moon?

Jaga supposed that he _could _resort to that one as a back-up plan…

Eyes closed, Jaga sensed for someone to answer his prayers, to grant his request. He would not give up. There had to be a world somewhere that Lion-O could flourish in…

"Pardon me, but do you know that you are carrying a wee babe in your arms?"

Jaga couldn't help but open an eye at the absurdity of someone pointing out something that blatantly obvious while being polite.

And to his slight confusion, the being addressing him, though benevolent and without a hint of malice, had no clear and discernible form. The halos of sunlight and starlight radiating all around the stranger was a bit too blinding, but from what Jaga could tell, the figure was upright with two limbs and two legs like any Thunderian and carrying a tall, wooden staff of twisted wood.

Jaga was wary but intrigued as he answered in an even tone, "Yes, I do. He is the reason why I am here."

"A good reason or a bad reason or a reason that is neither good nor bad but neutral?"

Wonderful. The only being on the astral plane that was willing to greet him seemed to be daft and favoring riddles. Still, Jaga knew that appearances were deceiving, and though roundabout, the guest contained no aura of darkness, so the Thunderian Cleric decided to play along with some direct honesty.

"Both a good and a bad reason, stranger," Jaga replied, "The father of this child has ordered me to drown him in his grief for losing his wife in childbirth and has entrusted me to carry out the act."

The stranger was silent at this, perturbed. After several minutes of contemplation, the figure then asked Jaga a rather surprising change in the subject.

"Is this child special?"

"_**Every**_ child is special. A child is a blessing, no matter how others feel about them."

"A good answer."

Jaga smiled at this compliment before he continued.

"This newborn must live; he deserves better than to be cast aside and abandoned. His mother would never have wanted such a fate, and I cannot bring myself to kill this young one."

"Only the truly vile can bring it in themselves to harm a child."

"And despite it being an order from my King, I will not carry it out. The child cannot remain in my world without the father or the kingdom's enemies discovering about his existence. This is why I am here. I need a safe place for the baby to be raised, in a home of love and care, and where no Thunderian has ever resided before."

There was a pause before Jaga then asked his request.

"Will you help me? Do you know of such a place?"

There was no reply for several minutes, the silence growing thick with expectation and tension as the two mystics remained in the astral plane. Thankfully, Jaga was incredibly patient, so he remained politely attentive and kept his expression non-judgmental and friendly. Such a favor was not simple to ask of anyone, and no matter what, Jaga would respect the stranger's decision.

"Yes, I will help you. I can take the child. I will see to it that the young prince is raised in a home of warmth and comfort."

"Will he be safe?"

"No. But he will not be alone."

"A good answer," Jaga parroted, smiling. And it was honest as well. Perhaps this figure was not as daft and nonsensical as he first appeared to be. Letting out a pent-up breath of relief that he did not realize that he had been holding, Jaga carefully handed the bundled up lion babe to the guest after giving Lion-O a farewell kiss on the forehead. The shining presence carefully cradled the baby prince in its arms as if he were precious metals and jewels, cooing the newborn softly. The tiny Thunderian stirred, yet somehow, it managed to sigh happily before continuing to slumber.

The stranger then asked the Head Cleric, "Jaga, does this baby have a name?"

Jaga did not miss the fact that he never told the stranger his own name, but for some reason, he did not feel threatened and replied, "Yes. His mother's last wish before she passed away. His name is Lion-O."

"Lion-O," mused the stranger, "My, what a strange name. Yet then again, there are worse ones, and as far as names go, it is odd, but it is neither good nor bad, and that it all that matters really."

"And what is yours?"

"I beg your pardon?" the figure asked as he was about to leave with the Thunderian baby in his arms.

"What is your name? I wish to know the name of the kind and generous being who is willing to help a stranger in his time of need and who is good enough to help save a child's life. What is your name?"

The figure smiled as he said cryptically, "I have many names, all of which are strange yet apt. You may call me... Olórin."

And with a flash of sunlight, he disappeared from the astral plane with Lion-O, leaving Jaga with a heavy heart and his eyes weary with tears and sorrow.

* * *

"Oh bother it all!" grumbled Bilbo as he heard the loud knocking at the door. Just when he was about to enjoy his breakfast, confound it! Still, it would not do for any respectable Hobbit to leave someone waiting indefinitely at the door, even if it was for fresh biscuits with scrambled eggs and sausages, fresh out of the pan a minute ago. Despite the need for pleasantries, Bilbo could not help but grumble and mutter under his breath as he tightened the sash around his bathrobe and irately stomped towards the door.

The knocking got even more persistent, the rapping noises being more forceful.

"Coming! Please, be patient! Honestly, this could not wait until after breakfast?!"

Yavanna help him if this guest turned out to be another practical joke from the local Took children. He was quite sure that they were behind the poison ivy prank left on his gardening tools last week, and Bilbo was quite eager to take a lad or two by the ears and march him posthaste to his house.

Upon reaching his front door, Bilbo hurriedly opened it and managed to demand in a civil tone, "Yes, may I help you?"

Only silence and the cool morning air greeted the Hobbit gentleman in the open passageway. There was no one standing on his porch. Huffing angrily, Bilbo was just about the slam the door shut when…

Bilbo Baggins blinked. Was that a baby wailing?

"Goodness gracious!" Bilbo exclaimed upon seeing the wrapped bundle lying on his stone steps before he immediately bent down and gathered the newborn in his arms. He looked a bit past to the pathway of his garden and to the front gate, but not a soul could be spotted.

Oh dear. Someone had abandoned a baby.

And left it with him.

Bilbo said the first thing he could in such an emergency.

"Milk! Warm milk!" he cried to himself, in a tizzy, quickly slamming the door with his foot.

Never mind that it was the middle of summer; the mornings were still a bit chilly, and the child could catch a cold. For heaven's sake, how some Hobbits could be completely dimwitted and inconsiderate to not even think of such a thing for a poor babe was completely beyond Bilbo.

And abandoning one in such a dreadful manner on top of it all!

Once inside, with the bundle warming nicely on his armchair next to the burning fireplace and a saucepan of fresh milk set on the coals, Bilbo then noticed the card that was pinned to the fabric of the blanket. Curious, he plucked the paper and read aloud the only sentence written in ink.

"'My name is Lion-O'. My word! Such a strange name for a Hobbit…baby…"

Bilbo's voice then trailed off and died as he realized that he finally got a good view of the child left at his door, peering at him from the folds of silk. A furry face of beige, creamy brown, and little canines jutting out of a whiskered, cat-like mouth. A small puff of vibrantly red hair, as bright as the reddest rose. Grubby hands with fingers that had tiny pinpricks that represented claws. Though what was the most discerning were the baby's blue eyes, azure and startling bright like deep pools of the clearest oceans and sky.

The baby wailed again, clearly hungry and wondering why his mother has not fed him yet.

Bilbo then voiced the only thing that could come to his frazzled mind.

"Oh dear..."


	2. Adjustments

When Lion-O first arrived in the Shire on Bilbo's doorstep, frazzled, Bilbo managed to get the Thain of the Shire and the Mayor along with the two senior Shirriff officers to meet him at Bag-End.

Of course, this happened _after_ Bilbo had fed the lion baby two warm saucepans of milk and after Bilbo enjoyed his first _and_ second breakfast. Let it never be said that Bilbo didn't have firm priorities, and it was simply not suitable for the two of them to meet officials of the Shire on empty stomachs. Although Bilbo was pleased that Lion-O had a healthy appetite; Lion-O drank every last drop of milk Bilbo had on hand.

"That is no Hobbit," was the first thing the Mayor of Michel Delving remarked in a stupefied manner upon seeing the furry Lion-O looking at the grown-ups intently.

"Oh, what a brilliant deduction," drawled the Thain sarcastically.

After hearing the entire story from Bilbo, the Thain and the Mayor immediately ordered all the available Shirriffs to send messages and mail posthaste as speedily as they could informing all neighboring cities of a missing, cat-like baby and to inquire if perhaps he belonged to a family or was abducted from a neighboring kingdom (not that anyone was accusing Bilbo of such an atrocious act).

Until then, Bilbo was declared the temporary guardian and caretaker of Lion-O until his parents could be found. Despite some flustered and incoherent protesting from Bilbo, he eventually gave in.

After all, surely the baby wouldn't stay in the Shire forever.

* * *

When Lion-O was one year old, the Thain paid a visit to Bag End and sadly informed Bilbo that the search for Lion-O's parents and heritage yielded no results and was to be declared as hopeless. None of the neighboring kingdoms, provinces, and farms have ever witnessed or heard of such a child with lion-like features, there were no reports of any missing newborns, and even the Rangers of the North and South have been alerted of Lion-O, but their research and travels were fruitless.

If the experienced Watchers of Arnor and Rohan could not discover any trace or hint of where Lion-O had come from, then it was safe to say that there was nothing else any being in Middle Earth could do. The Thain then also suggested that he knew of several orphanages in the towns of Men where they could attempt to place Lion-O in.

Bilbo looked at the sleeping baby he was cradling in his arms before he came to a decision.

On that day, Lion-O was legally declared "Lion-O Baggins" of Bag End.

* * *

When Lion-O was two years old, he finally said his first word as Bilbo changed his diaper early that morning.

"Father," Lion-O uttered, holding his paws up as an indication that he wanted to be picked up and hugged.

Despite holding a smelly, bare-naked Thunderian baby, Bilbo had truly never been happier in his life as he laughed and cackled like a madman, dancing and swinging Lion-O in his arms all around Bag End and for the first time since his parents' deaths, Bilbo truly felt complete and whole to the point where he thought he would burst with glee.

* * *

When Lion-O was three, Bilbo learned the hard way that Lion-O was quite agile and energetic for a child, his natural claws a great asset for actually scaling up walls, furniture, and wooden beams. Combined with an inquisitive and adventurous spirit, many Hobbits eventually got accustomed to the various bits of yelling, screaming, and the clamor of objects breaking and crashing against the floor.

"Lion-O, come back here! You're not done with your bath yet!"

_Boom!_

"Oh my goodness! Since when could you do that?!"

_Poom!_

"Lion-O Baggins, I've had enough of this! Come out from where you're hiding! _**NOW!**_"

_Bam, bam, bam!_

"Stop swinging on the chandelier this instant, young man!"

The sounds of something breaking against the floor caused a few of the eavesdroppers to wince; it sounded like something porcelain…

"Oh dear Yavanna! My mother's best plates!"

_Crash!_

"Young man, this is not funny! I'm going to count to three! _One!_ _**Two!**_"

_Rumble, rumble, rumble! Smash!_

"Lion-O, if I have to go get Hamfast's ladder to get you down, I will! Do not make me come up there!"

_Wham!_

"Sit down now! Stop laughing!"

_Crack!_ The sudden sounds of a pipe bursting and an outpouring of water could easily be heard, and the water leaking out of the bottom of Bilbo's front door was a very significant clue.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" screamed Bilbo loudly enough for the entire Shire to hear him.

Needless to say, Bilbo earned a few new gray hairs once he brought Lion-O into his life.

* * *

When Lion-O was four, Bilbo tried to celebrate Lion-O's his birthday publicly for the first time by inviting all the Hobbit children in the Shire to attend along with their parents, promising good food and fun games and activities.

No one came.

Though Bilbo did his best to make it a grand time with his son, it was hard to pretend to be jovial and happy when there were empty seats, untouched plates, and a distant hollow feeling upon seeing the abandoned toys, the empty yard, and unclaimed wrapped presents made for the guests.

Lion-O cried that night for over an hour, his face buried in Bilbo's chest as the Hobbit hugged and cradled him in his easy chair.

"It hurts," sobbed Lion-O.

Though as painful as this was for Lion-O, it was absolutely gut-wrenching for Bilbo, being unable to help his son face the coldness of the outside world. All he could do was hold Lion-O against his body even tighter and promise that he would never let go.

* * *

When Lion-O was five, Bilbo got a glimpse of exactly how odd and extraordinary his son really was.

And how much it truly frightened him.

It was an extremely freezing night in the middle of winter, a clear sky with stars and a full moon, but the ground piled high with freshly fallen snow, enough to bury even the tallest Hobbit twice over. It was the perfect evening for Bilbo to sleep warmly in bed after an hour of reading by the fire with some jasmine tea and scones.

Or Bilbo would have if Lion-O had not started crying and screaming like he was being tortured.

Fear and absolute terror gripped his heart as Bilbo actually sprinted in a rather undignified manner towards Lion-O's room and flung open the door. In his bed, Lion-O was in the throes of a terrible nightmare, thrashing and kicking off the covers over his body, moaning all the meanwhile. Bilbo hurriedly went over to his son and grasped him by the shoulders in a panic.

"Lion-O!" Bilbo yelled over his son's yowls, "Lion-O! Wake up! Wake up, please!"

In Bilbo's grasp, Lion-O then arched back, quivering and in a spasm before he gasped deeply and opened his eyes, his forehead and face beaded with sweat. Yet what shot a bolt of ice-cold alarm down Bilbo's spine was the fact that he was staring directly at his son's wide eyes.

And they were glowing, shining as brightly as two stars amid the shadows and dusk in the bedroom.

Bilbo couldn't describe it. One moment, he was sitting with his son on Lion-O's bed, and in the next moment, it was as if they were both plunging into an endless abyss, the sudden sensation of free-fall and being weightless being so terrifying, Bilbo actually could not scream or yelp in surprise. Bilbo then witnessed…

_A pack of twenty wolves, all of them larger than a grown Hobbit with various fur pelts of black and gray, snarling and ravenous from the cold winter…_

_The wolves were crossing the layers of ice and snow from the White Downs and crossing the now frozen river leading into Bywater, the town still bright and cheery with the light of the numerous homes and hearths…_

_ The snarling curs were starting to wander into the cobblestone streets of Hobbiton where the residents were peacefully sleeping in their warm beds, unaware of the invading beasts…_

_ Screams and loud shouts of surprise and panic rang in the air as several of the cottages and smials now had their doors caved in or wrenched ajar, the carnivorous quadrupeds joyful in the fruits of their hunting as they savagely attacked and feasted on the residents within, catching them completely by surprise…_

_ The air was thick with the smell of blood, so intense that Bilbo and Lion-O could scarcely breathe…_

With a jerk, Bilbo was suddenly flung back into the present, immediately finding himself in the bedroom with Lion-O still tearfully looking up at his father with fear, whimpering. Bilbo did his best to not look at his son like he was Sauron himself, but by Yavanna, what had just occurred between the two of them? It felt so real, as if Bilbo was right there amid the wolf pack as they massacred the innocent civilians. After the feeling of wanting to vomit subsided and after several deep breaths, Bilbo at first considered it was perhaps a horrible hallucination and that both he and Lion-O should try forgetting what they had just seen.

Until he heard the wolves howl in the distance.

The rest of the events were really a blur. Bilbo did remember instantly tearing out of Bag End and running as fast as he could to pound on the smial doors of the Thain and the Mayor, summoning the entire Shirriff force out of their warm beds, and running as fast as they could to Hobbiton, armed with long wooden staves, pitchforks, torches, and clubs.

Bilbo remembered hoping that he was wrong, hoping that the visions he saw were just a byproduct of a lack of a sleep and letting his imagination run amuck. It was hard enough making up a slight lie to the Thain and Mayor that he had heard the wolves howl from Bywater, despite the distance between the town and Bag End, and Bilbo didn't miss the dirty, skeptical looks on all of the Shirriffs faces. But to his grave shock and woe, he and the other Hobbits could see the wolves starting to cautiously enter the town square of Hobbiton, sniffing and ravenous for easy prey and meat as they overturned bins, baskets, and one particularly savage canine managed to tip aside a wagon of pottery. Thankfully, from what Bilbo could see, none of the homes have been broken into yet.

Although it would only be a matter of time.

Bilbo didn't recall much after that, only the adrenaline-fueled haze combined with a shortness of breath and the fight-or-flight response as he helped the Mayor, Thain, and Shirriffs drive the wolves away before they could do any additional harm.

Although he did recall trying his best to drive away a rather gigantic wolf away with his torch, only for the wolf to furiously wrench the burning stick out of Bilbo's hands with his teeth and toss it aside like it was nothing. Bilbo was now absolutely helpless as he backed away from the hungry beast, only to find himself trapped against the wall of one of the cottages with no way to escape as the wolf's eyes gleamed at the thought of sinking its teeth into Bilbo's flesh. The wolf was much faster and stronger, so there was no way Bilbo could run without being torn apart.

Bilbo remembered his final, anguished thoughts being about Lion-O as the wolf pounced…only to receive a rude surprise as a small, furry form actually tackled the carnivore by latching onto its head and sinking his claws over the enemy's face, taking the wolf completely by surprise. In fact, the unexpected attack caused the wolf to veer slightly in its trajectory, missing Bilbo by inches. Bilbo then yelled in despair when he realized that it was Lion-O, bundled up in a jacket over his pajamas as he furiously kept biting and scratching and yelling, "Leave my father alone!"

Bilbo managed to dash off and pick up his fallen torch, the only weapon that could help save them both, but he looked up to see the wolf managing to buck Lion-O off its back, sending Lion-O to crash against the hard cobblestone ground, hitting his head hard upon the landing and leaving him dazed. The wolf licked its chops as it advanced nearer.

Bilbo leapt from nowhere and sent a good wallop across the canine's face with his firebrand before instinctively putting himself between the wolf and the dizzy Lion-O. Now enraged beyond belief for its singed whiskers and nose, roaring, the wolf was ready to eviscerate his two little opponents.

"ENOUGH!" yelled a deep voice, authoritative and brimming with power, an essence that actually permeated all of Hobbiton.

A sudden outpouring of light then engulfed the entire battleground, blinding the wolves and actually setting several of their pelts aflame. Yelping and yapping in actual fright and panic, all the wolves scattered, fleeing as fast as they could. The one wolf Lion-O and Bilbo were trying to defend themselves against was howling the loudest in agony, the end of its tail burning like a lantern and leaving behind the odor of singed flesh.

The Thain and Mayor and the other Shirriffs were relieved to see Gandalf the Gray standing tall amid the falling snow, his hat and tattered robes fluttering in the wind and the tip of his wooden staff shining in tones of silver and white like a star. It was Gandalf who cast out the invading wolves.

"You got here just in time, Master Gandalf!" the Mayor exclaimed, grateful, as he eagerly shook Gandalf's hand. Gandalf smiled.

"A wizard is never on time, Master Hobbit. He arrives precisely when he means to."

Bilbo however was more concerned with his son as he hurried and knelt to Lion-O's side amid the snow. Bilbo tried to rouse the lion-child from his dazed state, worried that Lion-O had a concussion. Yet Lion-O simply continued to moan in a terrified voice, his wide eyes glazed and dilated and still glowing (much to Bilbo's horror).

"A figure in a red cloak…" Lion-O gasped, starting to cry as rivers poured down his cheeks, "Sharp teeth, big glowing eyes…all wrapped up…the bandages are coming to get me…a lizard in a helmet…a bird…an gorilla…a dog…all with red eyes…"

Gandalf was at Bilbo's side before the Hobbit knew it, gathering up Lion-O in his arms and cradling him like a baby. With a smooth movement, Gandalf buried Lion-O's face in the folds of his robe in order to not invoke any alarm from the audience now observing the two of them. Bilbo was actually stunned; usually, everyone steered clear of the both of them once they noticed how unnatural and alien Lion-O was to the Shire.

But it actually appeared Gandalf was concerned.

Gandalf then leaned over slightly and whispered to Bilbo out of the corner of his mouth.

"Meet me at Bag End."

Without another word, Gandalf hurriedly walked down the cobblestone road as Bilbo haphazardly gave his weak excuses for leaving.

"My son is in shock from fighting the wolves. Can you and the other Shirriffs handle the situation here in Hobbiton while I take my son home? I need to tend to him. Please."

Much to Bilbo's relief, the Thain gave his consent while the Mayor ordered the Shirriffs to look around and see if any of the residents were hurt, to send word to the Rangers, and to start assigning patrols to ensure there were no stragglers were leftover in the village. Yet as Bilbo hurriedly ran after Gandalf, he still managed to hear some mutterings from some of the officials who were observing this with a beady eye.

"Mad Baggins, indeed…"

"Quite shameful he took in a freak."

"I daresay I would not be surprised if it was Lion-O who enticed the wolves here."

If Bilbo was not out of his mind with consternation over his son's sudden plight, he would have gladly told off the other Hobbits for their rudeness.

It was odd how Gandalf only got a bit of a head-start, and yet he managed to get far, far ahead of Bilbo, despite the Hobbit running from Hobbiton to Bag End the entire way. Breathless, Bilbo managed to get back to Bag End ten minutes later, a painful stitch in his side, sweating, red-faced, and out of breath. There was no one in the living room on in the receiving room.

Where was Gandalf?

Yet his heart leapt in his throat when he heard the wailing and yowling of Lion-O. Rushing to Lion-O's bedroom, Bilbo found Gandalf sitting on Lion-O's bed, cradling Lion-O in his lap and using all his strength to keep the child still as the lion cub kept bucking, flailing, and crying out in a feverish trance, his blue eyes still glowing and his entire fur matted with sweat and yet his body as cold as ice.

"The figure in the red cloak, it's looking at me!" screamed Lion-O, in a mad panic and thrashing in Gandalf's arms in a desperate attempt to run, "It's coming closer! **It's coming to kill me!** Get it away! Get it away! _Help me, help me, __**HELP ME!**_"

These last words got shriller and shriller with terror, high enough to make Bilbo's ears ring, and Bilbo was so frazzled and at his wits' end that he was ready to scream as well in commiseration and hopelessness until Gandalf barked an order to Bilbo.

"Bilbo, calm down your son," the elderly man commanded as he placed a long, bony hand over Lion-O's eyes, effectively blinding the child as he maintained his hold. Lion-O just kicked and struggled harder, shrieking and crying all the meanwhile. Bilbo just looked at Gandalf at a loss until the wizard clarified.

"I can help your son. I can put him to sleep so the nightmares will leave him, but I need him to be still in order to do so. Please, help calm down your son. He will listen to his father," Gandalf strongly declared over the din.

Bilbo, white in the face, did the first thing that came to his mind on instinct.

Bilbo sang.

His voice was hoarse and creaky at first, numb with the fear of facing the wolves and the bitter winds, but as the words came, his voice became more in tune with the melody, more soothing and warm, his baritone voice mixing softly with the wailing from Lion-O, and yet, by some simple magic, felt richer and dominant. It was as if Bilbo had never forgotten the words that his own mother taught him when he was just a child himself on her knees, passing down the music to his own son as he gently yet firmly held Lion-O's twitching paws in his warm, callused hands.

"_The greatest adventure is what lies ahead. Today and tomorrow are yet to be said. The chances, the changes are all yours to make. The mold of your life is in your hands to break._"

Lion-O's struggling was diminishing, making it easier for Gandalf and Bilbo to maintain their grips on the Thunderian as Gandalf immediately began muttering a long string of incomprehensible words under his breath, his lips moving without sound.

Bilbo continued singing, his heart thumping hard against his ribs.

"_The greatest adventure is there if you're bold. Let go of the moment that life makes you hold. To measure the meaning can make you delay. It's time you stop thinking and wasting the day._"

The cries and screaming was now drifting off to slight groans and whimpers, Lion-O gasping deep breaths through his runny nose and mouth. The young one tried to shift his body to remove the hand covering his eyes and face, but Gandalf firmly kept Lion-O's arms pinned at his sides as he chanted under his breath.

"_The man who's a dreamer and never takes leave, who thinks of a world that is just make-believe. Will never know passion, will never know pain. Who sits by the window will one day see rain._"

"Father?" gasped Lion-O, almost as if he was waking up from a trance, and encouraged, Bilbo tenderly clasped one of Lion-O's hands with both of his as a sign of comfort, rubbing Lion-O's fingers and palm affectionately.

"Go to sleep, my son," Bilbo intoned softly, nearly weeping with relief, as he continued his song.

"_The greatest adventure is what lies ahead. Today and tomorrow are yet to be said. The chances, the changes are all yours to make. The mold of your life is in your hands to break._"

Gandalf felt Lion-O's body relax, the tension leaving the child's muscles, and Lion-O leaned more and more into the folds of Gandalf's robe, letting out a soft sigh of fatigue.

"_The greatest adventure is what lies ahead._"

Lion-O was now completely asleep, breathing calmly and normally, no longer twitching. Gandalf sighed as he removed his hand from Lion-O's eyes, gently caressed Lion-O's head and ruffled his damp hair affectionately before declaring to Bilbo, "It is done."

Bilbo, feeling close to passing out of sheer exhaustion himself, nodded as he and Gandalf gently laid out Lion-O onto his bed and covered him under the blankets.

Before he left Lion-O's bedroom, Gandalf leaned over and kissed the sleeping cub tenderly on the forehead.

Bilbo's eyes widened comically, almost popping out, but the Hobbit managed to hold his tongue and heat up a fresh kettle of tea before the two of them settled in front of the fireplace.

Gandalf eased himself into the opposite chair across from Bilbo and heavily sat down, allowing the crackling fire to warm his chilled bones. Surprisingly, Bilbo didn't say anything as he stared at the cup of tea in his hands, his face a myriad of emotions and questions, but none of them managed to come out of his mouth. The silence was incredibly awkward as it trickled to several minutes, but Bilbo wasn't even sure what he could say that would not make him sound crazy or that would not make Lion-O seem bewitched.

As friendly and welcome Gandalf's assistance was, he was still basically a stranger.

Gandalf decided to speak first while taking out his pipe and lighting it.

"Lion-O is a special child, Bilbo."

Bilbo just looked at Gandalf, his eyes blurry with frustration and fatigue. He had no idea why, but just seeing Gandalf sitting there, serene, nonjudgmental, and most importantly, open and accepting of Lion-O (when many of the other Hobbits would show fear, suspicion, and outright hostility) was just too much for Bilbo to bear.

It came pouring out. For over an hour, Bilbo described what had happened, how Lion-O woke up screaming, how his eyes glowed, how he and Bilbo saw the visions of the wolves, and how they managed to use the vision to warn the Thain in time to help counter against the invading pack. By the end of his tale, Bilbo couldn't help but sniff and wipe his eyes.

Bilbo loved Lion-O dearly, and nothing would ever change that. But Bilbo wished that raising a child just wasn't so damn frustrating. Gandalf however nodded his head in understanding.

"Lion-O has an ability called 'sight beyond sight'," the gray wizard explained in a quiet yet deep tone of voice that cut through the fog in Bilbo's head, "When triggered, he can see visions of the past, present, and future. He can see far-away places without leaving his little room here in the Shire, he can overhear people's conversations without actually being within their presence, and most dangerously, he can discover hidden secrets, relive past events and traumas as if he were witnessing them in person, and foresee events that may or may not happen in the future. You will be able to tell if he is using his power by the way his eyes glow. From what you have described to me, if a person is touching Lion-O while he has his visions, he can apparently bring people into his sight beyond sight as well. That is why you were able to also view the images of the wolves alongside your son."

Bilbo pondered over this explanation for several minutes before he asked, "Is this sight beyond sight dangerous?"

"In the wrong hands, it is."

That did not make Bilbo feel any better. _**At all.**_

"Allow me to be more specific, Gandalf. Is this sight beyond sight dangerous for Lion-O?"

"No, I do not think so. He was blessed with that power specifically because Lion-O was meant to have it."

"How do you know?"

Gandalf smiled at the suspicious tone in Bilbo's voice before he sidetracked with, "Things never happen without a reason."

Bilbo looked like he didn't believe that one iota, but he politely just downed his tea without remark.

Gandalf then asked, "Bilbo, are you now fearful of your son?"

Bilbo looked up, stunned and shocked at the audacity of such a question, until he noticed that Gandalf was serenely looking at him in an odd manner.

The Hobbit then remembered all the times Lion-O ate his cooking like he was the greatest chef in all of Middle Earth and helped with the chores, filled the rooms with his laughter, hugged and cuddled against Bilbo in devoted affection, how much more rewarding his empty little life in Bag End became once the lion-child entered his home. Bilbo could almost picture his son's blue eyes staring into his own and how he could never see any hate, malice, or wrongdoing from his strange, little alien.

"Never. But I am fearful of what his sight beyond sight will do to him."

"A good answer," Gandalf said as he blew a plume of smoke which surprisingly took into the shape of a cat, graceful and sleek, and the smoky apparition started prancing daintily in the air before vanishing. Though he had no idea why, the way Gandalf seem so satisfied made Bilbo wonder if the man had been testing him.

It wasn't until Bilbo refilled both of their tea cups before Gandalf spoke with carefully chosen words for the delicate situation.

"I placed a minor spell on Lion-O's mind to prevent the sight beyond sight from driving him mad. He deserves to enjoy what little years as a child he has left, and Lion-O will no longer have any visions such as tonight for a while until he is old enough to control and understand them."

Bilbo blinked. This was getting stranger and stranger. The Hobbit asked, "A…spell? Since when can you do that? You are simply a peddler of fireworks."

Gandalf replied as he blew a puff of smoke that turned into a butterfly, "I know a few additional tricks."

"Then can't you take away the visions from Lion-O? So that he can never be troubled by them again? Or perhaps use the spell to completely suppress the sight beyond sight forever in Lion-O? Please Gandalf, help my son!"

Gandalf finally frowned at Bilbo, and though he was not a little Shireling anymore, Bilbo instantly felt ashamed for asking such a question.

"No, I cannot do what you request, Bilbo. Create fireworks, make illusions, cure a sniffling cold, or mend a cut, perhaps. But to take away a gift blessed by forces that I know better than to trifle and meddle against? I am not a powerful wizard. Just a wandering one."

There was silence before Bilbo asked hesitantly, "How long shall the spell last then?"

"I would say around ten to twelve years. Until then, I wish to see it that Lion-O enjoys his days being a child and a beloved son, with laughter, cake, play, and adventures. Like your mother, Belladonna."

Bilbo looked up, confused, as Gandalf's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"I am asking for permission to visit Bag End from time to time. To see how the two of you are faring…and perhaps for a good dinner and a glass of red wine."

Bilbo just had one, remaining, nagging question.

"Gandalf, why are _you_ not fearful about Lion-O?"

Gandalf's eyes twinkled in the firelight as he replied, "Why should I be fearful of a boy who, like his father, has a courageous heart?"

Afterwards, Gandalf was named as Lion-O's godfather. And ever since then, there was a constant third guest to Lion-O's birthdays, complete with Lion-O's own private fireworks show that Gandalf made specially just for him.

* * *

When Lion-O was six, he was quite proficient in reading and writing, and Bilbo was pleased at how well he took his lessons to heart. However, he eventually discovered that out of all the subjects that he lectured over with Lion-O's tutoring, the lion-child absolutely adored fairy tales.

And thus, reading aloud to his son by the fireplace, with Lion-O sitting on his lap, became a nightly tradition for the two of them. And even though he was a Hobbit gentleman, Bilbo was surprised how the stories reminded him of his own yearnings and thirst for adventure, for a glimpse of worlds and lands outside the Shire exactly like Lion-O.

Apparently, his Tookish streak never left him.

Together, Bilbo and Lion-O sailed on vast oceans, observing giant fish and serpents crashing and splashing against the waves in the moonlight. Bilbo and Lion-O explored vast caves of sparkling quartz, diamonds, and precious crystals that made the underground caverns shine brighter than the rainbows. Bilbo and Lion-O traversed through thick jungles and met with the King and Queen of the Fey and danced with the unicorn guardians. Bilbo and Lion-O climbed the tallest mountains to observe the beautiful sunrises above the clouds and saw the phoenixes and the dragons dance in the air during the Great Migration.

And Bilbo and Lion-O did all this while never leaving their cozy living room in Bag End in the humble town of the Shire.

* * *

When Lion-O was seven, he finally realized the one fact about himself that Bilbo had been dreading for some time. Of course, this came one day when Lion-O arrived home in the early afternoon, crying furiously and helplessly after a vicious round of teasing from some of the Hobbit children, led by that despicable Lotho Sackville-Baggins.

"Father, why am I different?! Why couldn't I be normal?! Why couldn't I be a Hobbit?!" Lion-O whined, burying his face in Bilbo's lap as he knelt in front of his father. Bilbo, sitting on the kitchen chair, just stroked his son's head and hair comfortingly as his son continued to sob out his anger and hurt.

Bilbo said nothing.

Bilbo wished he had the perfect answer to make it all go away.

But he didn't.

That night, Bilbo made Lion-O's favorite dinner (seafood chowder, pan fried trout with rosemary roasted potatoes, and maple peach cake with honey buttercream for dessert). It erased the tears, but Bilbo could tell that it was only the beginning of the endless questions Lion-O would develop about himself and his unknown race.

* * *

When Lion-O was eight, he taught himself to swim in nearby ponds, and then later, in the Brandywine River near the Shire, which raised eyebrows from all the neighboring Hobbits witnessing this. It also caused Bilbo to produce an honest-to-goodness fit of screaming and worrying before he fainted dead away on the riverbank.

* * *

When Lion-O was nine, he was already taller than Bilbo by a good head, going through a rather radical growth spurt in a matter of months.

This made things a little different.

"I guess I cannot sit on your lap anymore," Lion-O said, embarrassed, although a bit saddened.

Bilbo easily fixed that by making a new tradition of reading to Lion-O from his easy chair by the fireplace while Lion-O sat attentively on the rug, hanging on every word with a mug of hot chocolate with clotted cream and nutmeg sprinkled on top.

And they continued that tradition well into Lion-O's teenage years.

* * *

When Lion-O was ten, Esmeralda and Eglantine Took both wandered into the Old Forest east of the Shire late one autumn morning, eager to find mushrooms and nuts to bring back home as snacks.

By nightfall, the Thain and Mayor of the Shire were running search parties in a panic, but none of the Hobbit men could find any trace of the two missing children after hours of searching. And with the threats of the various dangers from Withywindle Valley and the cold winds dropping the night temperatures close to freezing, it was starting to look bleak.

So imagine everyone's surprise and joy when Bilbo and Lion-O emerged from the forests with Esmeralda and Eglantine in hand, the girls dirty and shaken, but very much alive and uninjured. The two girls had accidentally got themselves stuck in a deep ravine that they could not climb out while they had been exploring. After many minutes of joyful sobbing and cheers, the Head Shirriff asked Bilbo how he found the Took children when it was pitch black in the woods.

Bilbo smiled and pointed at Lion-O.

Lion-O simply answered, "I can see in the dark."

Esmeralda and Eglantine hugged and kissed Lion-O for his role in their rescue while the Thain and the Mayor declared Lion-O a hero, invoking cheers.

Afterwards, the reception of Lion-O by many of the adults was considerably warmer. And of course, Lion-O then had no problems being able to play with the other Shirelings and having them attend his birthday after that. Granted, there were still some lingering suspicions and mutterings, but Bilbo and Lion-O couldn't have cared less.

Gandalf was happy to have more Hobbit children enjoy his fireworks.

* * *

When Lion-O was eleven, he actually started to tinker and build.

Bilbo wasn't exactly sure, but he was willing to bet money that this mania started because Gandalf gave into Lion-O's curiosity and showed him the inner workings of his magnificent fireworks. And of course, it didn't help that Lion-O was given an old set of tools by Bodo Proudfoot which only added fuel to Lion-O's insatiable urge.

Frustrated at how large and cumbersome Gandalf's fireworks were to someone of his size, Lion-O tried creating his own miniature ones by filling small, clay capsules with the same powder he found when he took apart one of Gandalf's Goblin Barkers. The first test run caused a massive explosion and firestorm that burned down Gorbadoc Brandybuck's hay cart when Lion-O accidentally shattered one pellet on the cobblestones.

Bilbo sent Lion-O to the Marish to harvest Gorbadoc's hay fields for one month as punishment.

Lion-O then created and built a strange grapple-line that one could wear on his wrist and shoot out a tiny metal spike attached to a rope to embed into the nearest tree branch or wooden rafter. Mimosa Bunce screamed loudly enough to wake the dead when Lion-O's accidental misfire shattered her kitchen window and nearly impaled her while she was cooking elevenses.

Bilbo sent Lion-O to clean up the shattered glass, repair the window, and then wax Mimosa's smial floors as punishment.

Lion-O was so proud when he managed to build a small wagon cart, big enough to fit him inside and complete with a comfortable cushioned seat, a front and back axle, two levers for steering, and circular wooden wheels lined with dried clay. Lion-O then got the brilliant idea to add some speed to his wagon if he tried attaching and lighting Gandalf's backarapper fireworks at the rear. Rudibert Bolger didn't think it was brilliant when Lion-O's joyride crashed into his vegetable stand. Though Lion-O was thankfully uninjured, the same couldn't be said for Rudibert's wares.

Bilbo sent Lion-O to clean up and rebuild Rudibert's wooden stand, and then Lion-O was to fertilize Rudibert's entire vegetable farm (which happened to be several acres large) as punishment.

Then came the time Lion-O wondered how a catapult could work and if whether or not he could really build one based off the descriptions found in Bilbo's stories and books. Unfortunately, the day Lion-O completed his secret project also happened to be the day that the Thain was hosting a grand dinner at his house with all the Shire officials…

Let's just leave it that Lion-O needed to do quite a few chores and errands around the Shire throughout his teenage years.

* * *

When Lion-O was twelve, he came back home extremely late one May night, talking all afternoon with one of the visiting Rangers of Ithilien and being enraptured by tales of Minas Tirith and the kingdom of Gondor over at the Green Dragon Inn. Running all the way, the adolescent just hoped that Bilbo wasn't too put off that he has missed luncheon, tea time, and dinner. But it was so wonderful to hear about the exciting things outside the Shire!

"Father, I'm home!" Lion-O called out as he flung open the door in breathless energy, slamming his way noisily into Bag End like a typical child. Yet Lion-O's exuberance instantly dwindled as Lion-O abruptly stopped to a halt at the sight of Bilbo sitting quietly at the kitchen table, with a pot of tea nearby.

What was instantly alarming was the stormy expression on Bilbo's face as he slowly turned towards his son standing in the doorway. Lion-O was instantly apprehensive; his father was kind, jolly, and quite easy-going, but it took an incredible amount to incur his anger.

"Do you recall what I reminded you this morning?" Bilbo said in a low, dangerous voice, his face surprisingly rigid and displeased.

Lion-O then remembered.

Today was the annual Spring Flower Festival. And Bilbo needed Lion-O's help with bringing and setting up the prized hyacinths and magnolia saplings Bilbo has so tenderly cared for and nurtured for his entry in the contest. It was too much for Bilbo to perform by himself, seeing that several of the clay pots were as big as Bilbo and quite heavy. Hence, Lion-O promised his father that he would assist with much of the manual labor so that his father would be able to display his hard work for the judges. And before he left for the Green Tavern, Bilbo made an effort to stress to Lion-O the importance of the festival.

Lion-O felt ashamed, his excuse catching in his throat. He did not mean to forget, but like all children, when the exciting stories from the Ranger came about, Bilbo's need got pushed aside and temporarily placed in the back-burner.

It was probably safe to say that Bilbo was unable to turn his flowers in time for the contest.

Upon seeing the stricken look on his son's face, Bilbo stiffly rose from his chair, appearing so disappointed that he couldn't tolerate looking at Lion-O a minute longer.

Bilbo's voice was resentful and tight as he declared, "Your dinner has been warming in the oven for the past two hours. Wash the dishes when you are done."

Bilbo left for his bed, brushing past Lion-O without even looking at him.

Lion-O began, "Father, I'm sorry. I - "

Bilbo didn't want to hear it as he turned furiously to his son and yelled, losing his temper, "**A promise you must give is a promise you must keep!**"

With that, Bilbo stomped to his bedroom and slammed the door, locking it with a final click. Leaving Lion-O to feel like absolute dirt, too upset and guilty to even eat.

From that day on, Lion-O never broke a promise to his father again.

* * *

When Lion-O was thirteen, he got into his first fight.

Bilbo wasn't entirely surprised when he found out that it was against Lotho and his gang.

"Lion-O, I raised you better than this," Bilbo sighed tiredly, his voice failing to hide his disappointment as he finished tying a bandage over his son's scraped knee. Lion-O was still stubbornly mulish as he held the raw slab of beef over his swelling right eye.

"He deserved it. Ow! That stings!" yowled Lion-O as Bilbo cleaned the bleeding gash on Lion-O's forearm with soap and hot water, wiping it raw with a clean cloth. Upon seeing that the blood on Lion-O's claws were not his, Bilbo had a sinking feeling that Lotho's injuries were probably far worse.

"Lion-O, verbal to verbal. Physical to physical," Bilbo lectured as he unrolled another bandage.

"You didn't hear it! And I couldn't just ignore it! Lotho called you 'Mad Baggins' and said that the reason you took me in was because I was just as much of a freak as you. He was asking for that beating!"

Bilbo gently placed his hand underneath Lion-O's chin and forced Lion-O's blue eyes to meet his hazel ones, making sure he could get his point across before he said, "Lion-O, names and titles mean little to me. And the same should go for you as well. If I am to be a 'Mad Baggins' because I adopted you, then I shall wear that moniker with pride and joy like any good father."

Lion-O finally felt ashamed as he glared down at the floorboards, remaining silent as Bilbo finished tending to his bruises and cuts. Satisfied, Bilbo took the medical supplies and the basin of water with him before he cast a stern glance at Lion-O over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Lion-O? You are grounded for two days, confined to your room except for meals and no dessert. And afterwards, I shall take you to the Sackville-Baggins where you will personally apologize to Lotho as well as Lobelia and Otho. Is that clear?"

Lion-O scowled, but the hanging of his head and the lack of protest was self-explanatory.

* * *

When Lion-O was fourteen, he finally asked Bilbo how he came to be.

It wasn't easy for Lion-O to bring up, but at this point, he felt that living with the ignorance was even worse.

Over tea, Bilbo and Lion-O sat down at the kitchen table while Bilbo explained everything he could: the day Lion-O was left at Bilbo's doorstep as a newborn with only a note, how the Thain sent word to all the neighboring cities and Rangers, all the hours Bilbo researched texts from the Men and the Elves for any clue of lion and cat races, and how after one year, they finally just gave up hope.

Lion-O was silent as he listened, looking down at his tea.

It was clear from the crestfallen, pensive look on his face that he wasn't satisfied with the answer.

"So you don't even know what I am?"

Bilbo was silent for a minute, not sure what he could say, until he suddenly had a brilliant inspiration.

"I know exactly what you are."

Lion-O looked up at his father, blinking. Bilbo smiled.

"You are the Prince of Many Questions. You are one of the Fish of the Brandywine, though no wine shall be served with you. You bounce among the trees, but you live in the ground. You come from a place beyond the sea, though you go home under a hill. You are a Hobbit in Heart, though your Heart is of a Lion's. You are one who sees without knowing, and one who knows without seeing."

With that, throughout the entire night, even while cooking and eating a wonderful dinner and even when all the dishes were washed, dried, and put away, Bilbo continued to use his silver tongue and vivid imagination to spin his tale.

He told Lion-O as one of the animal cubs blessed by Yavanna to help unite the warring animal races into a time of peace and prosperity. He told Lion-O as the long-lost son of a noble Bandit King leading forty thieves who sent his son away to safety away from a tyrant emperor by flying him on a magical ship that could soar above the desert sand and clouds, and how the Bandit King was aching for the day he could reunite with his son and love him. He told Lion-O as a reborn gladiator who would fight armies of evil spirits and Orcs and fell one hundred foes with a single swing of his sword. He told Lion-O as the only son from a wizard and sorceress who were also blessed with seven daughters, and how they transformed each of the daughters into rabbits, birds, dogs, bears, and other animals to watch over Lion-O as faithful guardians until he came of age to learn his destiny.

At the end of the stories, Lion-O finally smiled, laughter dancing in his eyes.

Bilbo hugged his son in return; his throat may have been parched and dry from talking so long, but it was worth it.

* * *

When Lion-O was fifteen, quite a few Hobbits with nothing better to do than spread malicious gossip (aka Lobelia Sackville-Baggins) commented that Bilbo Baggins spoiled Lion-O which explained why the lion-child was so wild and unable to be "respectable".

It was also around this time that Lion-O was considered to be as tall as the Men-folk, and Bilbo had to request a special order from the Shire carpenters to build a bigger bed for his son. It cost a bit of coin, but it was completely worth it to have Lion-O wake up without cramped legs and needing to sleep in a tucked-in position.

This actually caused _more_ tongues to wag in agreement to the gossiping.

Lion-O was ecstatic and couldn't thank Bilbo enough. Still, as he lay on the feather mattress, enjoying the feeling of empty space surrounding him and the down quilt on top his body, Lion-O felt something was missing.

When Bilbo stopped by his door to say goodnight, Lion-O then asked for a small request.

"Father," Lion-O said tentatively, "…can we cuddle?"

Bilbo smiled as he climbed on the pallet, and despite Lion-O being much bigger than the Hobbit, Bilbo wrapped his hands around Lion-O while Lion-O snuggled his head against Bilbo's chest, enjoying the closeness only a father and son could experience. It was strange how they both never got too old for this. Bilbo had to admit that seeing Lion-O's tail curl and wag in a relaxed manner and having his son purr contentedly while Bilbo's ran his fingers through his son's mane and scratched his ears was a therapeutic pleasure.

And of course, this also involved a slight tickle war where Bilbo would surprisingly get one over the taller Lion-O by scratching his stomach, causing Lion-O to curdle in a fetal position from the belly rubs, laughing so hard that he would choke.

Bilbo spoiling Lion-O?

Well, if you meant with love, hugs, cuddles, and tickling, then Lobelia wasn't wrong.

* * *

When Lion-O was sixteen, he managed to get a job at the Green Dragon Inn, serving drinks of ale and food, cleaning tables, collecting dirty dishes, and helping with the maintenance. The wage was decent and fair, and Lion-O decided that it was time to start contributing to his keep. Though Bilbo argued that Lion-O did not need to worry about money since the Baggins family was quite well off and that he had enough money to ensure that the two of them could live comfortably for some time, in the end, he relented and allowed his son to have the job.

Although Bilbo put his foot down when Lion-O tried to give his father all his earnings, insisting heatedly that Lion-O keep the money for himself.

After a few months, the tavern keep, Barmy Rootknot, informed Bilbo that he was pleased on how dutiful a worker Lion-O was. And Lion-O enjoyed how Rangers would occasionally visit the Inn during their travels and were nice enough to regale Lion-O with tales on the world outside the Shire.

* * *

When Lion-O was seventeen, he could climb the highest tree in the Shire from the ground up to the topmost branches within ten seconds. And at the Green Tavern Inn (which was a three-story building), Lion-O could bounce up the walls and awnings to reach the top of the thatched roof as easily as one could blink, brushing off twigs, dead pine needles, and dust with a broom.

Bilbo did his best to not have a fit of hysteria and clamped down on his fears that Lion-O would fall off and break an appendage or worse.

Conversely, the Hobbit children appreciated Lion-O's skills immensely. After all, who else could pluck ripe apples, hickory nuts, and extract their abandoned kites out of the trees for them?

* * *

When Lion-O Baggins was eighteen, he then ran into the oddest group of Dwarves that were being led by Gandalf right to his father's porch.

And that is when Lion-O's life truly changed…


	3. From Third Earth to Middle Earth

"You have summoned me, my Lords?" Mumm-Ra asked in his disembodied voice, kneeling before the giant behemoth statues in his cavernous chambers. The entire room was dark, devoid of any furniture except for the towering, giant sculptures, and cast in black shadows, save the light from the glow of the scrying pool.

As soon as the crimson-robed corpse knelt down to the metal floor, the room instantly was covered in tinges of unholy red as the mammoth faces of the four statues looming over Mumm-Ra began to emit an terrifying luminesce from their soulless eyes. Even though they were motionless busts of stone and metal, the deep voices of the Ancient Spirits of Evil resonated from within and above and all throughout the Black Pyramid.

"_**We have observed your acquisition with the latest Power Stone, and we are all pleased**_," the statue of the Lizard intoned, its face frozen in a permanent snarl.

Mumm-Ra basked in the praise and congratulations as he then simpered, "Thank you, my Lords. Shall I now command my armies to crush King Claudus and wipe out the Thunderian race once and for all?"

"_**No**_," said the effigy of the Vulture.

Mumm-Ra, still kneeling in his prostrate position, blinked, his eyes going wide in surprise.

He _**must**_ have misheard that.

"My Lords?" Mumm-Ra asked dumbly, stunned.

The obelisk figure of the Jackal boomed, "_**Ignore King Claudus for now. There are more pertinent matters on hand for you. Do you recall his newborn son many years ago? The lion cub born to the Queen Leona of Thundera eighteen years past whose death you orchestrated?**_"

"Yes?" Mumm-Ra asked, having a distinct feeling he was not going to enjoy where this questioning was headed.

"_**Lion-O still lives. He resides in another world, a different realm from Third Earth. Jaga had apparently spirited the Prince away in hiding, far from our detection**_," intoned the behemoth of the Ape, its sword gleaming under the disapproving light of its red eyes as it sneered down on the servant warlock.

Mumm-Ra's eyes went wide with terror as he stiffened. Despite this revelation, the living mummy would have _never_ guessed this outcome. Especially since he observed the kingdom of Thundera and its neighbors studiously, making sure that he could not even sense the lion cub's life-force anywhere in the planet for the past eighteen years. He thought for sure that Lion-O had been done away with for good. And after a long and fruitful decade of waging war against all the animals in Third Earth, saving the damned cat race for the final slaughter and conquest without anything to stop him was literally going to be the pinnacle of Mumm-Ra's victory.

Mumm-Ra actually was so magnanimously confident that nothing would have stopped him at this point.

It wouldn't be hard to guess that the Ancient Spirits of Evil were very, _very_ displeased.

As if sensing his trepidation, the statue of the Ape declared strongly, "_**There is no need for fear for now, Mumm-Ra. We have conceded that this turn of events was not due to negligence or incompetence on your part. This one setback does not overshadow your years of triumphs against King Claudus and the Thunderians.**_"

Mumm-Ra silently exhaled in hidden relief as he actually kneeled lower and touched his forehead to the ground in thanks, submitting himself before the four obsidian behemoths.

He managed to escape condemnation for once.

"I thank you for your merciful judgments, Ancient Spirits of Evil. Where is Lion-O now?"

Instantly, the scrying pool in Mumm-Ra's chambers began the glow and swirl in a multitude of colors as the statues' eyes began to burn with hellfire and crimson light. The bandaged-wrapped corpse hobbled his way over slowly to the reflective surface and observed within to see a plethora of translucent images reflected in the water.

Mumm-Ra remained silent, but his soulless eyes widened slightly with interest as he took in the sights of the marvels of this new world. Beautiful snow-capped mountains, black as iron and granite, yet reaching skywards towards a sky so blue, one could scarcely believe it. Grasslands and fields bursting with various plants and flowers, turning in hues of gold and red under a rich setting sun, the twilight dusk starting to reveal unfamiliar star constellations. Enormous trees and forests fed by pure rivers and ponds, all crystal clear and pure, feeding into a calm ocean under a full moon. Villages and town made of brick, stone, with straw-thatched roofs with its civilians riding horses and carts and farming crops and livestock. Soldiers and warlords training with swords, bows and arrows, and lances among stone monuments of statues and past kings within citadels and castles of a medieval and Renaissance quality.

Yet even just from the scrying pool, Mumm-Ra could sense it. Folds and webs of spells, ancient magic, and natural life-force and mystical souls intertwined deeply in every tree, rock, and droplet of water, encompassing it in a firm embrace and barrier of protection. The fabric of this reality was so thick with mystical energy that the mummy could actually feel pressure lightly teasing the edges of his threadbare cloak.

Impressive. If only the mere _images _of this world could exhibit this much of a magical and ethereal residue…

A planet that was truly a unique marvel in many ways.

Beautiful. Pristine. Paradise. Teeming with life and without a hint of industrialization.

And in Mumm-Ra's eyes: obsolete, backwards, primitive, and nothing truly useful, not even worth the effort of conquering.

The bust of the Vulture intoned, "_**Lion-O lives in a world called '**_**Middle Earth**_**', a planet teeming in resources and a multitude of races blessed by numerous gods whose powers actually dwarf our own. Here, Lion-O has grown into a young adult amongst a gentle race called the Hobbits, but he also lives amongst beings of Dwarves, Elves, Orcs, Goblins, and even the race of Men.**_"

Mumm-Ra's eyes narrowed. He was _**very**_ familiar with the human race…

"I swear to you, my Lords, I will destroy this entire world and completely obliterate it. We can activate the Black Pyramid to invade within the day and completely eliminate the entire planet from space in the effort to kill Lion-O once and for all. I will not let that furry whelp live."

"_**You will **_**not **_**destroy Middle Earth,**_" interrupted the Lizard coldly.

Mumm-Ra's head snapped up in surprise and horrified anger.

He looked as if the Ancient Spirits of Evil told the bandaged-wrapped mummy that Lion-O was taking his place as their most favored disciple. In a strange and demented way, it was a bit humorous to see Mumm-Ra's eyes become as round and wide and saucers and his jaw going slack, giving him a completely stupefied and silly appearance.

"BUT…BUT WHY?!" Mumm-Ra shrieked, his voice now an octave higher.

"_**This is our desire. You will not destroy Middle Earth, but help **_**conquer**_** it,**_" commanded the Jackal behemoth.

This wasn't making any sense to Mumm-Ra at all.

"Yet it makes the task of killing that damned brat all the more difficult! It still gives Lion-O a chance to live!"

"_**It is of little consequence. Lion-O and his family shall be dealt with soon enough, but for now, it is of utmost importance for you to begin plans to take your soldiers to Middle Earth **_**clandestinely**_**. We shall give you further instruction once you arrive and settle your army out of sight,**_" instructed the Lizard.

"_**We should not need to indicate the essentialness that you remain undetected. Powerful individuals reside in Middle Earth, some whose powers of omnipresence and sense could very well expose us all if you do not tread carefully,**_" said the Jackal.

Mumm-Ra seethed inwardly, now forgetting his previous fear and trepidation of showing insolence to his masters. The discovery of knowing that the furry, teenage bastard was still happily alive was making Mumm-Ra's blood boil impatiently, to the point where he was tempted to tell the Ancient Spirits of Evil exactly what he thought of their cowardly instructions.

Snarling, the mummy declared, "Very well. I'll arm all the animals in my command with the guns, the tanks, the aircrafts, the mechas, and every weapon in my disposal! And I will leave a savage wake of destruction in my path, destroying and vanquishing all cities and kingdoms in your names, and finish it with the murder of all those Lion-O holds dear!"

"_**You will not be able to use any of your advanced weaponry, Mumm-Ra,**_" the statue of the Ape broke in strongly. Mumm-Ra, not sure if he heard correctly, twitched in even further cheated outrage as he glared upwards towards the faces of the four obelisks. The corpse was so furious that he was no longer kneeling, but wrathfully upright on his own two feet.

The Vulture clarified, "_**Due to the immense amounts of magic encompassing Middle Earth, it is impossible to use any technology. Any effort to bring it into Middle Earth will result in all electrical circuitry to short-circuit and become dead and unresponsive. There is no way to escape the barriers and spells that permeate the lands, and not even our combined omnipotence can counteract the effects. You cannot use technology in the world where Lion-O resides. In fact, you will not even be able to summon the Black Pyramid to this world. You will need to use the most primitive of weapons for your slaves and allow us to utilize our magic for transport, but it shall be enough for the inevitable subjugation.**_"

It was then that Mumm-Ra lost his temper completely.

Mumm-Ra screamed, "_This is outrageous! This is idiotic! I will not bother with such a useless errand! I will not hide away in the shadows like a thief, a coward, a simple – _**AAAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!**"

He was rewarded by sudden bolts of energy snaking through his body, setting each and every dead cell in his withered form alight with hellfire and the most excruciating pain imaginable. Mumm-Ra dropped to his knees and convulsed, frothing at the mouth and his limbs jerking wildly before the punishment from the Ancient Spirits of Evil ceased. The very bandages wrapped around Mumm-Ra were singed and smoking acrid odors while Mumm-Ra needed several long moments before his vision cleared.

The very chambers of Mumm-Ra started to rumble slightly, quivering with the oppressive force and merciless judgment of the four statues towering over their slave, their voice booming like thunder.

"_**Do not take that tone of impertinence with us, Mumm-Ra**_," the Jackal snarled.

"_**Need we remind you that you are **_**our**_** servant?**_" highlighted the deep voice of the Ape.

"_**It is **_**not**_** the other way around**_," the Lizard growled.

The underlying threat was clear: do not question the Ancient Spirits of Evil.

Mumm-Ra felt actual blood and bile drip down his fangs and out of his flapping mouth, wiping it weakly with a frail hand.

"Forgive me, my Lords," Mumm-Ra gasped, although he felt like spitting, "I forgot my place."

The overlords' eyes glowed in a cyclic rhythm of dissatisfaction, but they remained silent.

"My Lords, then please, tell me _**why**_. Why are we to head to this Middle Earth and gamble with the young Prince and its inhabitants? Why are you so invested in this realm? Why must we indirectly hide instead of going full force with everything we have? What exactly is so special about Lion-O that you wish to spare him for the moment?"

The Ancient Spirits of Evil then told Mumm-Ra their reason.

Mumm-Ra blinked, truly taken aback after listening to this, but then he began to laugh.

The gleeful jest of Mumm-Ra traversed throughout the giant halls, being heard in every corridor, every metallic cell and chamber, reaching the ears of all his slaves.

Though a few such as Slythe or Kaynar pretended later that the howls of madness did not affect them the slightest, each and every one of the Lizards, Dogs, Birds, and Tigersharks could not deny the shiver of fear coursing down their bodies. Though Mumm-Ra wasn't as abusive as he _could_ have been, and his casual murdering of the animals under his own control were lately being kept to a bare minimum thanks to needing a massive army to fight against the Thunderians' forces, they all agreed that with Mumm-Ra laughing like this wouldn't be good for any of them.

Still, within the hour, Mumm-Ra summoned his four generals to his private chambers for his orders. Slythe, Kaynar, Vultaire, and Addicus all immediately answered the call and bowed to the withered figure in bandages, kneeling on the cold, metal floor on one knee. Mumm-Ra contentedly watched while seated on his metal throne.

"You all have new orders. Abandon all technology, all weapons, and take your second-in-commands as well as the stronger halves of your armies. We are leaving this world temporarily and invading into a new one. As of now, all preparations against the Thunderians will cease and desist. _Indefinitely_."

"_**WHAT?!**_" screeched Slythe, his fat head popping up and his yellow, jaundiced eyes wide and glazed with shock and outrage. They were so damned close! Claudus and the rest of the cats were now in a perfect position to be wiped out and destroyed once and for all! The lizard waited too long to delay his desire and vengeance to make each and every cat pay with the blood!

Mumm-Ra glared at Slythe for the intonation of audacity in his outburst as one of Mumm-Ra's clawed hands began to glow with powerful energy, promising a rather excruciating, magical punishment Slythe hurriedly and nervously quailed before bowing his head in submission.

"Forgive me, Lord Mumm-Ra."

Vultaire gave a smug smirk from his beak before he prostrated himself even lower to the floor, declaring his a strong, refined voice, "Your benevolence, we thank you for gracing us with your new commands and opportunities to achieve your glory, but I must ask, in what way are we to serve you and the Ancient Spirits in this new land?"

_Ass kisser_, thought Addicus, Slythe, and Kaynar to themselves. It wouldn't have been surprising if Mumm-Ra himself was thinking of the exact same thing. Still, the living corpse made no indication of his derision as he answered.

"From what the Ancient Spirits of Evil have told me, this land contains something that will truly give us dominion over it and all of Third Earth."

"Are the voices in my head allowed to have fun, Master?" Kaynar begged, his posture erect with pleasure and murderous, insane thoughts. His tongue wagged out of his drooling mouth, and his eyes were so disturbingly wide and glazed that one could easily deduce that the canine was mentally unstable. Mumm-Ra, upon seeing Kaynar's eagerness, actually smiled in a vulpine manner.

"As long as it is within my orders, the bloodier, the better."

Kaynar could have simply howled in ecstasy. Addicus, who was next to him, shifted uneasily before speaking.

"Lord Mumm-Ra, but what about King Claudus and the Thunderians? If we all leave for this new world, it may provide him an opening to attack our forces on the Black Pyramid. If he ever discovers we have left Middle Earth, we may experience a massive setback. Even our spy in his ranks would not be able to hide our absence from him."

The gargantuan gorilla (along with the three other animal generals) was actually surprised to hear Mumm-Ra cackle with glee once again.

"That will not be a problem," Mumm-Ra declared with anticipation, "In fact, I guarantee that Claudus and his ilk will be following us!"

* * *

"Jenyo, can you take this bag of medical supplies to the main healer tent?" Cheetara asked, holding a satchel out to the flying chipmunk, "Be careful and don't jostle the bag too much, though. There's not much, and the doctors need all the medicine they can get."

Normally, the cheetah would have done the delivery herself, but all morning, she and a few of the other Thunderians have been busy organizing a new section of tents for the latest refugees, and as such, Cheetara was bone tired with a pounding headache. She wasn't sure how much longer she could stay on her feet.

Although the fatigue and exhaustion was better than feeling the cold clamp of paranoid worry around her heart…

The flying chipmunk nodded wordlessly, managing a tired smile before she slung the bag over her shoulder, scurried up one of the stone walls, and glided smoothly away on the air towards the western section of the camps to make her delivery.

Cheetara breathed her thanks, exhaling therapeutically as she watched Jenyo fly away before turning back to her task with the tents.

"C'mon, Snarf! You don't know how much I had to beg and plead with the chef to get this for you before the lines! The least you can do is try some."

The Cleric blinked at the voice nearby before she got up to see whether this required any additional assistance, only to find a small Thunderian girl, holding out a small metal tin of steaming fish meat to a familiar, four-legged creature. To the girl's consternation, the pet did not even twitch and give any indication he was listening.

"Just a bite or two," the she-kitten begged, "It's fresh and hot from the fire. The Fishman added some really good spices to make it especially tasty!"

"Wilykit, what are you doing?" the gentle Cleric asked as she ambled curiously to the girl.

"I managed to get a little food for Snarf, but he won't eat it. We haven't seen him eat anything since we moved into the Tower. It's heartbreaking to look at him," Wilykit said, concerned, as the animal continued to ignore her and the piping hot dinner.

Cheetara looked at Snarf sadly, noting how wretched the animal looked. From what she heard from the elder Clerics, he used to be a conniving yet adorable little scamp who explored the city and never failed to get into escapades and trouble while invoking amusement. It was hard to see that now considering his frame was thin, his long ears now dropping and frayed with bleeding edges, and his pelt and skin was grimy and coated with dirt. From the way Cheetara could see his ribs sticking out under the folds of his hide, she had to marvel how Snarf didn't keel over and perish from starvation. But Snarf's eyes were the most noticeable: jaundiced, baggy with dark circles of exhaustion, and so full of sadness.

It was almost as if he lost his will to live.

Rumor had it that Snarf had been this way ever since Queen Leona's death.

But then again, the majority of the survivors from Thundera were probably feeling the exact same emotions.

The beautiful cheetah maiden knelt down and ruffled Wikykit's hair in a sisterly fashion as she placated soothingly, "Wilykit, you're doing a very compassionate thing. But you can't force Snarf to eat if he - "

There was a sudden horn blast from one of the upper floors of the Tower, and Cheetara felt her heart climb to her throat. The alarm from the lookouts could not be anything good, and already, the Thunderian civilians and soldiers around her instantly became alert with worried chatter and paranoid attention.

"By the Ancients, is it a raid?!"

"Soldiers, _**to arms!**_"

"Mumm-Ra's coming! By Thundera, we're doomed!"

"Daddy, I'm scared!"

"It's probably nothing, little one."

"Everyone, please remain calm! _**Remain calm!**_ I repeat - !"

Wilykit's electronic communicator crackled to life, startling the two of them (while Snarf remained unresponsive).

Cheetara willed her beating heart to calm down as Wilykit quickly grabbed the handheld from her belt and began to relay the correspondence. No matter what she had been through, the Cleric would never be completely used to technology.

Although it was a little embarrassing that the children and teenage Thunderians were much more accepting and savvy of it than the adults and Clerics…

"This is Wilykit. What's going on?" the she-kitten declared loudly to the communicator over the din and chatter around her. Her brother's voice responded immediately. For once, Wilykat was uncharacteristically serious and with a dire tone.

"There's tanks approaching the camps! They're ours! They're the ones Generals Panthro and Grune left in!"

Cheetara's eyes widened. Jaga and Tygra left with them as well as a small battalion of soldiers last week…

"What's wrong?" Wilykit asked, looking ill.

The slight pause and hitch in Wilykat's voice did not ease any of the tension.

"Panthro says that that we need the healers and all the medics ready and waiting at the main entrance. It's…not good," Wilykat said, and one could actually picture the boy wincing as he admitted this.

Within minutes, Cheetara and a number of Clerics, soldiers, and healers gathered at the entrance to the Tower of Omens, just in time to see the four Thundertanks rapidly approaching, invoking clouds of dust in their wake. All of the voluntary minutemen already had their laser rifles aimed and ready, just in case this happened to be a trick or a Trojan Horse from the Lizards. The Clerics clearly had the same train of thought, considering the way their gripped their wooden staves and stood on edge, ready to strike.

Cheetara felt her breath become heavy as the tanks rolled to a stop before the crowd before the rear hatch doors opened, revealing Panthro as he shouted out orders in his deep, baritone voice. Cheetara's eyes widened with dread as she saw the burly panther cradling a bloody and unconscious Thunderian warrior in his muscular arms; the recruit couldn't be more than twenty years old…

"We have wounded! Take them to the healer tents! _**NOW!**_" Panthro bellowed loudly enough for the entire crowd to hear him.

Everyone immediately sprang to action (though quite a few troopers refused to lower their guns), running towards the Thundertanks. One burly Thundercat quickly came up to Panthro and took the still teenager from his arms.

"Here, let me," the nameless soldier whispered. Panthro's voice was just as hoarse.

"Take him quickly. I don't know if he's still alive."

"He's so young."

Afterwards, Panthro slumped against the side of the Thundertank, one hand covering his eyes as the General did his best to not break down. Cheetara turned away politely, a lump in her throat.

As the Clerics and healers immediately provided assistance, Cheetara saw Jaga and General Grune come out of one of the other tanks. Jaga was grim, saddened, while Grune was furious, swearing a multitude of growls and curses as he marched off. One Thunderian volunteer tried to approach Grune upon seeing the dried blood crusted down the side of his face.

"General Grune, are you - ?"

"_**Piss off!**_" roared the Sabertooth, scaring all those around him into providing a wide berth, as Grune stomped bad-naturedly towards the training grounds and shooting ranges. Jaga shook his head at Cheetara, before he grimly walked over to the Tower where King Claudus would be waiting in the war-room.

"Grune'll be OK," a familiar voice said half-heartedly behind the cheetah, "He just needs to punch a few things to get it out of his system."

Cheetara turned to see Tygra emerging from the last Thundertank, managing a cocky smile that did little to hide his unease and fatigue, not to mention the scuff marks, the singed fur from laser burns, and the cuts peppering his striped fur and body.

Cheetara automatically sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Ancient Spirits of Light that Tygra was alive and generally unharmed. The breath that she hadn't realized that burrowed in her gut, tightly coiled, let out in relief as she rushed to the strapping commander, gratefully hugging the brawny tiger.

But then the Cleric's eyes widened as she then took a closer look at the sight of grime and blood on Tygra's singed and torn uniform.

_Lizard_ blood.

"Tygra, what happened?" she asked worriedly, placing her hands on the tiger's bruised hands and knuckles.

Tygra's mouth went into a grim line, his face maintaining a fatigued, resentful expression, exhaling wearily through his nose.

* * *

"Your Majesty?"

From the tone in Jaga's voice (and from the fact that Lynx-O sounded the alarms earlier from the lookouts), Claudus knew that the Head Cleric was bringing bad news. The lion king squared his shoulders and turned away from the maps and reports of the numerous losses in battle before facing Jaga.

The sorrowful look on Jaga's face was not encouraging.

"Mumm-Ra is now in possession of the Spirit Stone."

"By the Ancients…" cursed Claudus, rubbing the bridge of his nose (and the scar) with one hand in deep disappointment and dread.

How in all of Third Earth did Mumm-Ra manage to get to the Elephant Village so quickly after the Thunderians just discovered its existence?

Claudus was already making plans to steal it from the Elephants before they could even realize it was gone. His first and only meeting with a representative from the Elephant Village (and seeing their extremely sorry excuse of a memory) only convinced him that the Power Stone would be better in the Thunderians' hands than theirs.

Now, it was too late.

Another in the long list of victories and small triumphs Mumm-Ra seemed to be gaining in this entire battle over Third Earth.

How could they keep losing like this?

_Why_ did they keep losing like this?

"What is the damage?" the Thunderian King asked after a minute of silence.

"A quarter of the Thunderian battalion have been killed," Jaga stated, "Panthro and Grune managed to evacuate our remaining soldiers, but the entire Elephant village and their inhabitants - "

"I don't care about the Elephants, Jaga."

The Cleric knew that King Claudus was under a lot of stress and pressure from the growing tension with the forces of Mumm-Ra. The Cleric could empathize with King Claudus on the account that he was extremely worried for his people and fellow Thunderians who were now trying to survive their new situation and that Claudus was still grieving heavily with blame on the number of Thunderians who lost their lives since the attack and fall of city. The Cleric could even understand that the years of war with no end in sight were taking their toll on Claudus and that he was simply tired and drained.

Even so, Jaga couldn't help but frown at the callousness of that statement. Claudus looked up and spotted the displeasure and affront, and he instantly showed remorse.

"I am sorry, Jaga. I…I did not mean that."

Jaga nodded, though he was still offended. Aburn and Anet were good beings who did not deserve to die like that, and Jaga would see to it that he would set up a memorial pyre for them and the other Elephants later tonight.

Claudus continued on with the debate.

"Did Mumm-Ra's forces follow them back to the Tower?" Claudus asked.

Jaga's response was swift as he said, "Ponzi reported that there are no signs from any of the sentries that Mumm-Ra's forces are any close to our borders while flying with Lucy. However, Lynx-O and Panthro plan to increase security due to the failure of the mission, in both the tanks and in the aircrafts."

"The tanks and aircrafts would be too conspicuous at this point. Rely on the Clerics now for speed and stealth observation, have the tanks and aircrafts be on stand-by if there is need for heavy firepower. What is the status of our people?"

"There is discontent, grumbling, fear, and a desire to get revenge on Mumm-Ra and his soldiers, the Lizards especially. However, despite this, there is no general consensus of rebellion and abandonment; if anything, being in the Tower has given them reason to band together and never surrender. All are actively trying to share supplies and assist each other, willing to do their part and beyond to help."

"Some good news at last. How is our situation with food and supplies?"

"The Fishmen managed to return undetected with several bags of fish to tide everyone over for several days. Wilykit and Wilykat's scouting parties managed to find a new supply of fruits and vegetables from a neighboring forest, and Viragor is working with the Berbils on replenishing the Candy Fruit in the groves as well as constructing new shelters and tents for the incoming refugees. But…"

Jaga paused a bit, causing Claudus to look up before the elderly advisor then voiced his worry.

"We cannot live here forever."

Claudus nodded, clearly not surprised by that opinion. It was obvious that he was on the same train of thought.

"We can't go back to Thundera. There's nothing left to rebuild, the Lizards have stolen and taken everything useful, and any efforts to salvage and start over would give Mumm-Ra opportunity to attack what's left of our forces if we leave our fortress. We cannot rebuild while we're being hunted."

"I agree, your Majesty, but we cannot hide here indefinitely either. Mumm-Ra may not wait us out to linger and die, and despite the enchantments placed in the Tower, I cannot say with certainty we would endure if Mumm-Ra attacked us with all of his forces at once. To be frank, I'm suspicious that he hasn't already."

"Perhaps he is scared to make such a siege. The War Stone and the Sword of Omens may hold him back yet again."

"You barely managed when you tried to fight Mumm-Ra's forces in Avista. And that was _**before**_ Mumm-Ra gained the Spirit Stone."

Claudus winced; he recalled how the only reason he managed to escape unscathed at that battle was because of Panthro and Lynx-O.

"What about our weaponry and technology armadas?"

"The Berbils are making constant improvements, and their training with our soldiers have yielded good results under Tygra and Lynx-O's supervision. All of our militia members are fully capable of piloting and utilizing the tanks, aircrafts, and various guns we have scavenged. Unfortunately, even with the Berbils' help, raw material to fix and upkeep all of our technology is nearly depleted, and the Wilykittens and their Thieves have informed me that they have nearly spent all the coffers from the Forever Bag. Also, keep in mind, Mumm-Ra's forces are more adept with technology than we are due to the fact that Mumm-Ra had perhaps over a century to study, utilize, and build it while we only had a decade at most. Despite how quickly we can adapt, Mumm-Ra's armies would continue to have the upper hand."

Claudus nodded wearily. It was funny how before the fall of Thundera ten years ago, he would have angrily dismissed technology as a myth and would have ungraciously sneered at anyone who was foolish to believe in such fairy tales.

However, waking up to have the city under flames and massive explosions from the payload of several missiles would be enough to change anyone's stand on that viewpoint rather rapidly.

"We need to find a new weapon, a new tactic or advantage that Mumm-Ra does not have or perhaps a weakness in the Sword of Plundarr," Claudus then concluded, "Any discoveries from the Book of Omens?"

"None. All it continues to show is how Mumm-Ra was sealed and how we came to be. No probing from my magic or examinations from the Berbils has yielded anything new. Keep in mind, the Head Clerisy only knew _about_ the Book, but never truly explained how to harness its secrets. I suspect it only will display its information when Fate decides that it is time."

Claudus exhaled impatiently and with ragged heat. They didn't have the luxury to wait and research indefinitely.

"There has to be something we're forgetting from legends past!" exclaimed Claudus with much impatience and frustration, "A secret weapon, a spaceship that can obliterate Mumm-Ra's forces, an advanced magic spell, even…"

The King broke off. He should have known better than to think of that option. Both he and Tygra have tried countless times with the Sword of Omens, hoping they could see any sort of vision from the War Stone. King Claudus bargained with the Ancient Spirits of Light, prayed and fasted studiously, made demands and pleas to allow his people to end their collective suffering by allowing him to manifest that powerful ability.

And each time was completely unsuccessful.

The Gods wouldn't answer his prayers.

The lion laughed bitterly, turning back to the table littered with maps and reports, slumping heavily on the piece of furniture.

He was so tired of it all. He was starting to lose faith, sinking into despair.

"Sight beyond sight," he muttered, "If only it was as real as technology…"

Jaga felt his body stiffen, his eyes widening slightly.

For once, Jaga wished he did not ask for such detailed yearly reports with the Olórin character in the astral plane.

Jaga took a glance out of the window from Claudus' war room. His heart was troubled upon seeing the wounded soldiers from the battle at the Elephant Village, being bandaged or laid on straw mats while healers and the Clerics tended to them. One nurse was draping a sheet over the bloody corpse of a bloody, Thunderian soldier while the soldier's wife and children screamed in agonized grief upon seeing their loved one dead.

"No!" wailed the daughter, not much older than five years, and the nearby medic swept up the kitten in a hug.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," Pumyra said softly, for once her brash, no-nonsense demeanor melting away to sympathy and tenderness. The cub just sobbed in reply. Nearby, the elderly father, who was only reunited with his son a year ago after being rescued by Tygra from the Plundarr mines, was weeping softly next to the prone form of the young soldier Panthro carried from the Thundertank.

His son didn't make it.

Jaga saw all the refugees and former civilians of Thundera huddled together in groups, around fires, watching the casualties unfold and softly whispering in fear. The Head Cleric could see the spooked faces, the unease, the growing trepidation of what the next hour would bring, the uncertainty of whether they would ever be able to live a free life again. No more were the days of plentiful feasts and warm comforts of home. Their faces were sallow, their clothes tattered and nearly rags, with many days where the Thunderians went hungry despite the best of rationing. And it was not just the civilians. Jaga and Claudus could see the fatigue in the Clerics, the Thunderian soldiers and minutemen, even in Panthro, Lynx-O, Grune, and Tygra's faces.

And it wasn't just the Thunderians whose lives were in danger.

The Dogs, the Lizards, the Tigersharks, the Birds, all the animals. Even though some joined willingly to serve Mumm-Ra, none of them (not even the Lizards) deserved to be subjugated as a meager existence of being a worthless slave. They would simply wither away, their future generations condemned to a pitiless, slow death once Mumm-Ra no longer found them useful.

And Mumm-Ra needed to be brought to justice for all the harm and destruction he had wrought on the entire planet. Viragor's forests were now barren wastelands, still smoking with charred wood, and the Magicians of the Forest were brutally massacred for refusing to relinquish their factory to supply Mumm-Ra's armies. The Berbils lived a life of slavery under the Lizards and the Conquedor (who sold them for a profit to Mumm-Ra) until the Thunderians managed to help them escape. However, it did not erase all the years of torture and how many of the Berbils' loved ones were missing with little hope they could be found in the black market and across the planet. The poor Elephants who were a gentle race of tranquility and compassion that needed to be avenged. And so many animals who did not wish to take part in the war with Mumm-Ra ended up losing their lives and homes anyway when Mumm-Ra brutally displayed the punishment for those who defied him.

Mumm-Ra was winning.

They were outgunned, outnumbered, and out of hope now that Mumm-Ra had _three_ Power Stones against their one.

They were running out of options. Running out of time.

Jaga swallowed once, wetting his lips.

Oh Ancient Spirits of Light, please forgive him.

"Your Majesty…" Jaga said in a grave voice, "I have a confession to make."

* * *

The bellow came suddenly, without warning.

"_**YOU DID WHAT?!**_"

Every Thunderian, even the Clerics, was caught off guard from the booming voice of their king as he roared loudly enough to vibrate his ire throughout the entire sanctity of the Tower of Omens, causing the neighboring birds in the trees to dash off in alarm and for Snarf to squeal and cower under the nearest basket.

Panthro actually blinked his good eye in surprise as he murmured, "Claudus sounds angry."

"Whatever it is, we didn't do it!" chimed in Wilykit and Wilykat fearfully in plausible deniability.


	4. Meeting the Company

"Gandalf, it is good to see you!" Lion-O shouted as he literally gave the old wizard a bear hug so powerful, Lion-O managed to lift a surprised Gandalf off his feet and dangle him several inches off the ground in his embrace. Flustered and embarrassed, the bearded man swatted the teenager playfully in the arms, much to the amusement of the Dwarves observing this, chuckling.

"Put me down this instant, you dunderhead!" Gandalf sputtered, although one could see that Gandalf was smiling underneath his white whiskers, "Young Lion-O, really, your father would take your ear and ground you for treating me this way in front of company! We have guests, in case you have failed to see the group I have behind me!"

Embarrassed but laughing, Lion-O put down his godfather before he turned his attention to the group of eight who were standing among the grassy fields. Even though it was nighttime, Lion-O could see them plainly enough. They were all short, shorter than he or Gandalf, although Lion-O would have guessed that they were all taller and more heavily built than his own father. They had the strangest clothing of leather jerkins and leggings, and one or two of them easily sported fur cloaks and boots. But what was most noticeable about the eight strangers was that they all were sporting beards with intricate braids and beads and that they were all carrying weapons. Axes, hammers, and swords, and two were carrying what appeared to be a staff of iron and a wicked-looking spear.

Lion-O couldn't help but be a little apprehensive, although a small part of his mind was immediately thinking of the fairy tales of noble warriors and errant knights of kingdoms past. Plus, if they were travelling with Gandalf, then they couldn't have been evil.

Likewise, the eight Dwarves were a little taken aback from the strange teenager who seemed to be on excellent terms with the wandering wizard.

He was certainly not like the other Hobbits in the Shire.

Lion-O was tall, almost up to Gandalf's height, with a body of a young man but the whiskered face of a cat, blue eyes as bright as the sky, hands and bare feet that ended with claws, and a lean frame with some muscle from all the various years of labor he did around the Shire (to this day, Lion-O was still working off the damage to the Thain's property due to the catapult incident). Yet despite wearing a tan dress shirt rolled up at the elbows with suspenders and brown trousers, the Dwarves could see that the entire body of the lion was completely covered with a thick pelt of creamy brown and beige fur, complete with a spiky, untamed mane of red hair on his head and his tail which was protruding out of the seat of his leggings.

Remembering his manners, Lion-O turned to the Dwarves and bowed deeply, saying, "Lion-O Baggins, at your service."

The one Dwarf wearing a strange, floppy hat and sporting an impressive mustache immediately returned the gesture with a friendly, easy-going smile as he returned the bow stating, "Pleasure! Bofur, at yours, lad!"

A strange Dwarf, grizzled with black hair mixed with streaks of white, introduced himself next, and…was that the head of an axe embedded in the front of his skull? Lion-O couldn't help it as he stared, but thankfully, the stranger took no offense (and he probably had dealt with this kind of reaction many times before in the past) as he made a strange motion with his hands. It took several seconds before Lion-O realized that the Dwarf was communicating through some sort of sign language. Upon seeing the confusion, the fattest of the Dwarves with braids of red hair wobbled forward, like an obese penguin.

"That's Bifur, and he says hello. Bombur, at your service! And may I ask what sort of food do you have prepared for dinner?"

Lion-O blinked. Dinner? Did his father invite them? Well, they certainly didn't look rich, so they probably were in need of a good meal. And it wouldn't be proper Hobbit etiquette if they turned away a hungry person. And it was already past the dinner hour at the Green Dragon, so the group wouldn't truly be able to get a good meal there. But before he could ask, the next Dwarf popped up out of Lion-O's blind spot, startling him a bit.

"The name's Nori!" the Dwarf chimed in, and though he smiled, Lion-O couldn't help but have a wary feeling about him, although his orange, star-shaped hairstyle was incredibly funny-looking. The next Dwarf who stepped up was fussily telling Nori to hush before offering a hand to Lion-O to shake, being more cordial. Lion-O, smiling, shook it, observing the Dwarf's gray beard and hair, all tied with exquisite and complicated braids and beads.

"Pleasure to meet you, young Lion-O. My name is Dori. And do not worry: I shall ensure that my brother, Nori, does not make off with your silver."

"Oi! You don't need to tell him that!" squawked Nori in protest.

"I'm not having you getting us kicked out of another town, Nori. This looks like a peaceful place, and Mahal only knows how much Ori was shaken from the last time you stole things that did not belong to you!"

"Technically, we were not kicked out of the last town! And it _wasn't_ because I stole silverware!"

"Don't argue semantics with me, Nori! Kicked out or chased out, I do not know about you, but I would like _**not**_ being awakened in the middle of the night by a mob carrying pitchforks and torches a second time!"

"**That cattle stampede was not my fault!**"

"Well, no, the _stampede_ was not your fault, I'll admit that. Causing the bulls to invoke a riot when you ran through the pens with the governor's daughter's red underwear, however, _**was**_your fault."

"I didn't have much of a choice when the governor's sentries were chasing me!"

Lion-O kept watching this exchange with new feelings of unease and confusion. While Nori and Dori continued to argue, the next Dwarf stepped forward and bowed, wearing a colorful scarf, knitted fingerless gloves, and hugging a large tome to his chest. The braids in his hair were entwined with thin mauve ribbons.

"I'm Ori, son of Ri. Pleased to meet you, Lion-O."

"Well met, Ori, son of Ri. And I like the scarf. Did your mother make it for you?"

Ori actually blushed and smiled brightly, and Lion-O got the impression that he was far younger, almost innocent, compared to the others of the ragtag group. He was almost like a child in personality.

"Actually, no. I knitted it myself."

"It's good work," Lion-O covered quickly for his initial mistake, and if anything, that made Ori's eyes twinkle even more. Seemingly irritated at the delay of standing around, a burly and impressively-sized Dwarf pushed through, his wild hair and beard was almost an exact shade of red as Lion-O's mane. He was carrying an impressive axe with a silver, bejeweled head, and there was a faint crisscrossed scar on the Dwarf's forehead above one eyebrow.

"Glóin, young one," the Dwarf nodded. He seemed stern, but Lion-O managed to maintain a friendly bow in return. And upon a second look, was he imagining things or was Glóin wearing some sort of locket?

The last member of the group ambled over in a dignified manner. This Dwarf was the one carrying a staff rather than a bladed weapon (which was actually a pleasant and intriguing change), his bushy hair and beard all completely dark gray, and carrying a rather large satchel.

Lion-O bowed, saying, "Lion-O Baggins, at your service."

"What? What did you say?" the grizzled being squawked, and he leaned one side of his head closer to Lion-O. The teenager was at first confused and a little fearful that perhaps he offended the stranger until his eyes fell on the tin ear-trumpet that the Dwarf was holding up with one hand.

Ah. Now Lion-O felt a little silly. He leaned over and shouted right into the metal ear-trumpet, "_**Lion-O Baggins! At your service!"**_

_Whap!_

Lion-O now sported a rather painful bump on his head, right between his ears, and the Thunderian youth was crouching on the ground, holding his pounding cranium and trying his best to topple over from the sudden dizziness and blurry vision. The Dwarf harrumphed irately after clouting Lion-O over the head with his gloved hand.

"Ow…" moaned Lion-O. For such a short person, the traveler was incredibly strong.

"I'm deaf, but I'm not **that** deaf! And from the way you yelled directly into my ear trumpet, you're lucky I didn't wallop you with my staff!"

Gandalf felt sorry for Lion-O as he helped his godson up from his sprawled position, chuckling as he explained, "Lion-O, yelling directly into his ear-trumpet is just as painful as if someone yelled directly into yours. No one appreciates being shouted at in such a manner. Just simply speak _a bit_ louder than normal, and Óin will be able to perfectly hear you."

"Óin?" groaned Lion-O, rubbing the tender lump.

"The Dwarf who just hit you."

"Dwarf?" groaned Lion-O.

"I do believe you hit him a little too hard, Óin," chimed in Ori nervously from the sidelines.

The white-haired Dwarf just sniffed, "Please. I just gave the weakling a simple tap. That is all."

"Some tap," muttered Lion-O under his breath, glaring at the Dwarf, but Gandalf scolded grandfatherly at the Thunderian.

"Now, now, Lion-O. You did do a rather blatant and careless act, and these Dwarves have traveled far from their homeland to come for a nice hot meal and a place to rest. Do not be rude. What would your father say if he were to see your lack of manners?"

Lion-O' glare softened. Gandalf was correct on that front.

Lion-O sighed, rubbing his tender scalp before he bowed (albeit reluctantly and moodily) to Óin before saying, "My apologies for yelling in your ear, Master Óin."

"Accepted," Óin replied with a nod. The Dwarf with the hat (Bofur, if Lion-O remembered correctly), laughed as he patted Lion-O on the arm.

"Aw, lad, don't take it personally. Óin'll heal you right up as quick as can be if your head is still going to give you trouble later on. He's one of the best healers in all of Dwarfdom, and we wouldn't want you to have a concussion after this. Now, how about we head off to your father's home and have something to drink and eat? We'd all feel a bit better on full stomachs."

Lion-O decided that it wasn't all bad; at least they seemed friendly. Although he was definitely going to make sure to keep an eye on the one called Nori. And right now, Lion-O still had a little resentment and less than charitable feelings towards Óin. However, both he and Gandalf smiled at the camaraderie and the simple wisdom of Bofur's words before the entire group started on the dirt road to Bag End.

"Does Father know about these Dwarves coming for dinner?" Lion-O couldn't help but ask as they walked, one eyebrow raised worriedly. Bilbo never enjoyed rude surprises. Gandalf smiled underneath his whiskers.

"I visited him at Bag End this morning."

"Oh," was all Lion-O could say to that. Lion-O thought about how much food Bilbo had in the pantry and hoped it would be enough to feed all of these Dwarves. Secretly, he hoped that he didn't have to offer the sandwiches Barmy Rootknot let Lion-O take with him after his work-shift, hidden in his pockets. On the few days where there were some leftovers after the dinner rush, Barmy would take the leftover bacon, fry it perfectly to a crisp, sauté some onions and mushrooms, and stuff the entire concoction in a crispy baguette of bread to give to Lion-O and Bilbo for a midnight snack. It was one of the teenager's absolute favorite perks in working at the Green Dragon.

It was also one of Bilbo's favorites as well. But then again, what Hobbit did not enjoy the sublime tastes of bacon and mushrooms?

"I swear I actually smell bacon," whined Bombur at the back of the group. Apparently, being the fattest of the Dwarves made the portly figure difficult to keep up the pace of Lion-O and Gandalf as the red-haired cook sniffed the air hungrily, trailing behind.

"So, you're all Dwarves?" Lion-O hurriedly changed the subject, ignoring Bombur's remark, "By any chance, are you all from Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains?"

"Aye, young Lion-O, that we are. And a good guess I might add. Pray tell, how do you know about Ered Luin?" Bofur answered, cocking his head, but a part of him was starting to suspect that the Thunderian wasn't trying to make polite conversation, but that Lion-O was truly being friendly and interested. Pity that more of Middle Earth couldn't treat Dwarves with a fraction of that decency.

Lion-O smiled as he explained, "My father has many maps of Middle Earth, and he spends many hours looking and wondering about the kingdoms and lands that go beyond the Shire borders. And once in a while, we have several Dwarf peddlers come visit Hobbiton to sell their wares and services. Father usually sends me to get our knives and cutlery mended, and one was kind enough to tell me about Ered Luin. Although…he didn't tell me much."

Bifur just smirked to himself as he heard this.

Friendly or not, Dwarves rarely trusted outsiders.

Bifur then signed in Iglishmêk (with Bofur translating), "_A few of our kin have traveled to the Shire and Hobbiton before. Peaceful and fertile, good crops and food, if we Dwarves actually cared about such things. Pity about no trade for a blacksmith or mining._"

Dori interjected, "Although I am curious as to you and your father residing here. The Shire and its inhabitants are well renowned for being polite but suspecting of strangers. How is it that Hobbits are gracious enough to be comfortable by allowing you and your father to dwell in their town?"

Lion-O smiled as he explained, "My father is a Hobbit. I'm adopted."

"My, we would have _never_ guessed that," Nori drawled in a lighthearted manner, only to be answered with a soft punch on the arm by Glóin.

Glóin growled, "By the Blue Mountains, do not mock such a noble thing. Young Baggins, children are one of the greatest and most valued treasures to Dwarves. You cannot know how fiercely us Dwarves will protect and value our kin and family, and as such, we have utmost respect for a Hobbit who is willing to love and raise a child that is not his own. Don't let any fool tell you otherwise or that blood is more important than love."

Lion-O blinked. It appeared the red-haired Dwarf wasn't a grumpy, unsocial being after all, and Lion-O couldn't help but ease his defenses a bit.

"Thank you, Master Glóin. By any chance, do you have children?"

Glóin's eyes went dreamy as the burly Dwarf gave a big smile and said, "Aye, lad. My son, Gimli, and he's the shining jewel - "

This speech and reverie was instantly drowned by various protests from the other Dwarves.

"_**Oi!**_"

"Really? Do we have to hear this now?!"

"Not again…"

"Glóin, let's just have dinner first!"

"Nori, quick! Clout me in the head. It would be a lot less painful."

Bifur made a hand motion for Glóin to shut up.

And Lion-O just chuckled.

"So if your father is a Hobbit, then what are you?" Ori could not help but ask with childlike curiosity. Thankfully, Lion-O's answer came easily enough, given years of being asked that same question by the many visitors of the Shire.

"I am a Baggins, of Bag End. And please leave it at that, Master Ori."

And with that, Lion-O opened the gate to the path to his home, with Gandalf leading the Dwarves up the stairs. Unfortunately, it was tricky to climb the cobblestone steps without stumbling. Just as Óin found out as his foot caught on the edge of a step and sent him sprawling, his ear trumpet flying out of his hands and into the bushes.

Thankfully, before the Dwarf medic could hit the ground, the furry teenager managed to scoop down and catch Óin just in time, although the effort made the muscles in Lion-O back protest as Lion-O grimaced. Despite being short, these Dwarves were heavier than they looked.

"You all right, brother?" Glóin barked from the head of the line.

"My ear trumpet? Where's my ear tumpet?!" Óin cried out.

"Next to Bombur's left foot, hidden under the juniper bush," Lion-O said, pointing with a nod of his head before the group could start looking around. The portly Dwarf blinked before he cautiously bent over (a difficult feat for someone of his girth) and Bombur carefully felt around the pitch-black shadows underneath the branches before, to his surprise, he felt the metal instrument.

"How did you do that?" Bombur asked, impressed as he waddled over and gave the trumpet back to Óin.

Lion-O smiled a bit sheepishly as he helped the thankful Óin steady himself on his feet before stating, "I have slight night vision. I can see in the dark."

Nori smiled, rubbing his chin with one hand, "Interesting. No wonder Gandalf thinks you'd be a wonderful burglar."

The other Dwarves shushed Nori furiously, but Lion-O was now a bit worried as well as confused, and he turned to Gandalf with a look for clarification. To his slight annoyance, his godfather gave a rather benign smile before wordlessly continuing to walk up the path towards Bag End without a word.

Lion-O exhaled through his nose; as much as he liked Gandalf, there were times he could be so aggravating.

And it appeared that Bilbo was going to be in full agreement of that sentiment as Lion-O unlocked the door and ushered everyone in.

In short, Bilbo Baggins was having an honest-to-goodness fit. Lion-O viewed four other Dwarves were already in the grand smial before Gandalf's group, and immediately and quite rudely were making themselves home by rearranging the furniture and raiding his pantry. Lion-O's father was doing his best to protest, beg, yell, and plead with his unwanted guests to stop. He might as well have been talking to a stone wall as the Dwarves set out a feast on the table, carelessly flinging out doilies and placemats, grabbing dishes and silverware, and arranging chairs in a jumbled mess without any sense of order or decorum. Two of the visitors immediately vanished down the stairs that led to the cellar, hooting and whooping like lunatics. However, Lion-O then got a closer look at the other two Dwarves who were in Bilbo's dining room and kitchen. One was bald, burly with a bushy beard and a barrel-like chest of pure muscle while the other was shorter, more portly, and has a puffy mane and beard of white.

For some reason, Lion-O could almost imagine them being termed as the Warrior and the Sage.

Upon seeing the others, the two aforementioned Dwarves automatically hailed Gandalf's group like old friends, invoking cheers as Bofur, Bombur, Bifur, Nori, Dori, Ori, Glóin, and Óin immediately shook off their cloaks and coats before making a beeline for the welcoming meal.

Bilbo then took one look at Lion-O and the crowd behind him before he let out an undignified groan, sinking to the floor on his rear and about ready to pass out from the unpleasant shock.

"No! _Nonononononononono!_ Son, not you too! Please tell me you did not invite these Dwarves to stay in our house!" Bilbo practically wailed.

Lion-O then whirled on his godfather, confused.

"I thought you said you told my father that they were coming to dinner this morning!"

Gandalf clarified in a cheeky and innocent tone as he escorted the eight Dwarves into the cozy kitchen, "I said I **visited** dear Bilbo this morning. I never said that I told him that I was bringing company."

Bilbo sputtered, his face red as he furiously jumped up from the floor, "You…! You are as twisted as the wooden staff you carry! You are the bane of all straight answers, and the boon of all things cryptic! You are the wizard who wanders into homes instead of out of them! You bring in unwanted guests like a dog brings in fleas! You are - !"

Gandalf, in his merriment, didn't see the hanging ceiling lamp of the living room until he actually collided into it, bumping his head rather painfully and invoking a small grunt of discomfort.

Bilbo finally smirked as he said, "You are one with the chandelier."

The frown on Gandalf's face showed he was not amused at the joke.

Meanwhile…

"Hey! If you want ale, I can serve you! Just put that back!" Lion-O roared, now showing his canines at the other two unknown Dwarves who were lugging out one of Bilbo's barrels of mead out of the basement with much glee. For the sake of Eru, did these Dwarves know nothing of reservation and respect? Both of the Dwarves blinked at the towering, furry Thunderian growling at them, his blue eyes now flashing dangerously and his hackles and tail rising.

"Kíli, look! Mister Boggins has a house cat!" piped up the blond Dwarf with a small braided goatee. Despite Lion-O's annoyance, the Dwarf seemed eager, almost amused at how angry he was making his host.

"I am not a housecat, I am a Baggins of Bag End. Mister Baggins is my father. And that is _our_ ale you're pilfering," growled Lion-O.

"But…you're not a Hobbit," blinked the dark-haired Dwarf, giving Lion-O the impression that he was actually as young as Ori in a way, childish and impulsive.

"No, I am a Baggins of Bag End."

"And a housecat, Young Boggins," grinned the blond impishly.

"_**Not a housecat**_," repeated Lion-O, trying his best to not snap back and show anger. Upon hearing this, both of the Dwarves actually set the barrel of mead gently on the floor before coming up towards Lion-O, staring inquisitively. Lion-O was at first confused until he realized that the two Dwarves were studying him, peering closely at his body, his face, his hair, actually poking his furry skin, and the dark-haired Dwarf actually was bold and audacious enough to grasp Lion-O's sensitive tail with his fingers.

"Oi! His tail is real! It moves and has bones and everything!"

Lion-O yowled as he irately and hurriedly jerked his bushy tail out of the Dwarf's hand, finally snapping, "Do that one more time, and I'll claw your face off!"

"Lion-O, no violence," Bilbo lectured from the background, his voice mild but with a core of steel underneath.

_Dratted Hobbit sensibilities_, thought the furry adolescent to himself as he inhaled sharply through his nose, his nostrils white. If anything, the reprimand actually made the two Dwarves smirk at each other as they merrily stood at attention and bowed to the furry teen.

"Fíli…" said the blond Dwarf.

"And Kíli…" said the dark-haired Dwarf.

"At your service," the two guests finished together in perfect unison.

By the Gods, first they were robbing them, and now they were trying to make _introductions_?

Still not the least bit calm, Lion-O balled his hands into fists and growled, "Give me one good reason to let you two hoodlums steal our ale and take our food and act like complete boorish beggars in our home."

The two Dwarves grinned identical, impish smiles at each other before they both spoke, circling around Lion-O like vultures with their prey, making it difficult for Lion-O to keep his eyes on them.

"Because your father would want you to be a good host?" Fíli asked.

"Because as a Boggins of Bag End, you are expected to mind your manners and be a Gentle-Hobbit? Or Gentle- Housecat?" snickered Kíli

"Because Gandalf wanted us to meet here?"

"Because we came all this way from the Blue Mountains for a grand reunion, and it would be a damned shame to toss out weary and hungry Dwarves who are merely requesting a bit of the plentiful bounty you share?"

"Because you're expected to be on your best behavior?"

"Because you wouldn't want to disappoint your dear old father?"

"And because we asked nicely?" both Kíli and Fíli chimed in together with toothy grins.

"You didn't ask to begin with!" griped Lion-O.

"We're asking **now**, Young Boggins," Fíli pointed out sweetly, tilting his head to the side.

"It's Baggins," snapped Lion-O in return.

"Boggins," Fíli repeated with a nod.

"Baggins."

"Boggins."

"_Baggins!_"

"Boggins!"

"**Baggins!** With an 'a'!"

"Boggins, without the 'a'."

"…you cannot be _this_ oblivious."

"Says our little lion who does not realize we've been teasing him non-stop," cheeked Kíli.

Lion-O just shut his eyes hard and wished that they would both miraculously vanish into the Void, exhaling loudly through his nose. Fíli and Kíli then both chortled impishly before they powerfully slapped Lion-O on the back, nearly causing him to stumble.

"By Mahal's hammer, you need to develop a sense of humor! We are merely having fun with you, Young Boggins! There is no need to act as if all of Middle Earth will perish!" Kíli laughed.

"No, just Bag End!" snapped Lion-O as he tried to cuff Kíli upside the head, but the Dwarven Prince easily dodged the blow.

Fíli pointed out smugly, "Ah, ah, ah! Remember: _no violence_."

Lion-O just growled, showing his teeth. Manners or not, his temper was making his face almost as flushed and red as his hair.

For some unknown reason, Fíli then decided to take pity on Lion-O's frustration, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head. Fíli then asked nonchalantly, "Lion-O, how many Dwarves do you count are in your home?"

Lion-O looked up, blinking. That was an abrupt change to the subject…

"I'd say twelve."

"Fourteen, actually. Fifteen if you include Gandalf as your guest."

"Very well. Fifteen. And your point?"

"So if there are fifteen guests, each one requires a mug or a drink, correct?"

Lion-O blinked in confusion, not seeing where this was going.

"…yes?"

"And you'll be all right with serving us? Running up and down the cellar steps, refilling only two mugs at a time considering you only have two hands? To serve drinks like a proper host? For fifteen guests? Dwarves whom can easily polish off a tankard in ten seconds like our dear Dwalin?"

"Three seconds, young Fíli," bragged the burly, bald Dwarf (the one Lion-O termed as the "Warrior" earlier at first glance) without aplomb.

Lion-O just continued looking at Kíli and Fíli like they were truly insane.

"Ah, silly me. Three seconds, then. My point still stands, Young Boggins. Do you truly think it easier to serve us throughout dinner from the cellar as opposed to having us simply bring the barrels up to the dining room to serve ourselves? To lessen your burden? Wouldn't that make things easier for you and Mister Boggins?" Fíli highlighted.

Lion-O opened his mouth but then hesitated.

When the Dwarf put it that way…

Lion-O sighed, already feeling a headache as he rolled his eyes upwards.

"How many barrels do you and the other Dwarves require for me to bring up?"

As it turned out, _**all**_ of them. Granted, Kíli, Fíli, and the big Dwarf (Dwalin) were gracious enough to help Lion-O carry everything upstairs from the cellars, but it was still incredibly aggravating. The entire group left nothing unturned in their raid of the ale, cider, mead, and wine (even the rare cordials that had been in storage since Bungo Baggins was a bachelor). And of course, the entire food stock in the larder was completely demolished.

Bilbo just mournfully stared at the empty pantry, so woefully empty that the Hobbit could almost hear a wailing gust of wind emanating from the sacked storeroom. A few scant crumbs were all that was left on the wooden shelves. It was enough to make Bilbo throw a complete temper tantrum and cry like a baby. The only thing that kept him still was his Hobbit respectability (and it was probably the only thing that kept Bilbo from grabbing Holman's axe and committing mass murder).

Meanwhile, the dining room thundered with boisterous and happy cheering as the Dwarves and Gandalf devoured everything with relish and eager appetites. It was perhaps a microscopic comfort that at the very least, their guests were happy.

Lion-O came up from behind and rubbed his father's shoulder affectionately, though he had to secretly admit that seeing Bag End without food for the first time in his life was a bit jarring. Bilbo just let out another aggravated exhale through his nose.

"We can go to the market tomorrow morning," Lion-O tried to offer.

Bilbo still looked peeved.

"If only that brute Master Dwalin didn't steal our dinner," he muttered bitterly. Lion-O instantly felt bad for his father as he bit his lip in thought before he then remembered the food Barmy Rootknot gave him after his work-shift.

"Father…" Lion-O murmured as he knelt down and handed Bilbo one of the wrapped sandwiches from his pocket. Bilbo, upon realizing what his son was doing, protested weakly, pushing away the greasy bread back to his ward.

"Lion-O, no! It's yours. You cannot - !"

"I already ate at the Green Dragon, and Barmy gave me two sandwiches. Please, take this, and I'll start up some tea. And I think one of the Dwarves made some soup earlier over in the kitchens. Don't bother giving it back to me. If you try, I'll just give it to one of the guests. And I'm quite sure that Bombur fellow would gladly devour it."

Bilbo was silent for a second as Lion-O gave a cheeky smirk, almost daring his parent to object. Giving in, the Hobbit then kissed Lion-O tenderly on the forehead.

"You're a stubborn boy," Bilbo said softly with a smile.

"My father has Took blood. Whatever did you expect?" returned Lion-O.

Thankfully, Lion-O was able to scrounge some leftover vegetable soup that one of the Dwarves made over the stove in a bubbling pot, enough to fill a considerable bowl. After making sure Bilbo could eat peacefully on his armchair next to the fire with some tea, Lion-O went to check on the Dwarves.

Only to let out a yell of shock when he saw them tossing Bilbo's fine china and crockery in the air, like a massive juggling act and passing to one another before ending to Bifur (surprisingly) who was eagerly handling the messy platters and washing them in the kitchen sink.

"Have you Dwarves gone mad?!" Lion-O practically yelped, "That's my Father's good china!"

"Oi! Lion-O, catch!" Kíli yelled, and too late, the startled young Baggins missed the saucer lobbed at him before awkwardly and unsuccessfully trying to get a grip on the fluttering plate before it dropped through his fingers and crashed onto the floor, shattering.

"Lion-O!" wailed Bilbo in the background.

The young Baggins winced before he meekly said an apology; he was pretty sure that was one of Bilbo's antiques…

Bilbo then cried out, "Stop them before they blunt the knives!"

"Oooh, do you hear that, lads? He says we'll blunt the knives," the Dwarf Bofur grinned as he glanced at his comrades meaningfully, pounding the wooden table in a rhythmic beat while clinking cutlery. Gandalf just smiled and winked at the distraught and harried Lion-O, not the least bit worried.

What were the Dwarves doing?

"_Blunt the knives, bend the forks. Smash the bottles and burn the corks. Chip the glasses and crack the plates. That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!_" Kíli and Fíli sang, joined in by the baritone voices of Bofur, Nori, and Glóin.

Lion-O and Bilbo could only stare dumbfounded as assorted tableware and utensils flew in the air at various intervals. Bombur hungrily scraped all the food leftovers and licked the platters clean before the rest of the Dwarves were skillfully juggling and tossing them in an assembly line without even chipping or cracking them against one another, using their hands, elbows, and even their knees and feet.

Lion-O was unsure whether to feel horrified or impressed while Bilbo grabbed his hair and looked like he was going to have a nervous breakdown.

"_Cut the cloth, tread on the fat. Leave the bones on the bedroom mat. Pour the milk on the pantry floor. Splash the wine on every door!_"

Dwalin took out a fiddle, and Bofur whipped out a flute from the sleeves of his coat. In unison and without prompting, both started playing a jaunty, upbeat, and light-hearted melody. The healer Óin ingeniously used a teapot as a makeshift trumpet, whistling through the spout merrily. Not having any musical instruments, the other Dwarves eagerly banged metal pots and stomped on the floor with their heavy feet in tempo as they sang.

"_Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl. Pound them up with a thumping pole. When you're finished if they are whole. Send them down the hall to roll._"

And as momentarily as it started, the procession of china had suddenly stopped. Agitated, Bilbo rushed towards the kitchen along with Lion-O, both of them expecting a rather disastrous mess when they both stopped short at the sight.  
There, to a crowd of smiling and satisfied Dwarves (and Gandalf) was a neat little stack of sparkling-clean dishes, bowls, and silverware, all sorted, washed and dried meticulously. Bifur, his arms still wet with sudsy dishwater from the sink, just winked at Lion-O.

"_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!_" the rowdy bunch finished in unison.

Lion-O couldn't help it.

He laughed, invoking a couple of cheers from several of the Dwarves upon seeing that the lion was enjoying the fun. These Dwarves were boorish, rude, pushy, and certainly lacking manners and dignity normally found in Hobbits, but they were completely hilarious. Even Bilbo couldn't help but smile with appreciation at the well-ordered heap the guests had created in consideration as he walked into the kitchen.

"Thank you," the Hobbit patriarch said with a nod of his head as the Dwarves toasted each other and laughed, feeling more and more at home.

Without warning, there was a sudden series of heavy pounding on the front entrance that was miraculously heard over the boisterous din, bringing all the Dwarves to a sudden standstill. Well, except the near-deaf Óin…

"Did I hear something or does my trumpet need cleaning?" muttered Óin to no one in particular.

Lion-O and Bilbo were both a bit surprised at how abruptly hushed their guests had become, but Gandalf just smiled.

"He is here," the wizard announced solemnly.

Confused, Lion-O and Bilbo tagged along the group of Dwarves as they followed Gandalf to the front door (with Kíli and Fíli the most eager, expectantly on their toes like impatient children) before Gandalf opened the door.

There, on the approach, stood a rather majestic-looking Dwarf with long flowing locks of ebony and a neatly-cropped beard. Strong, with broad shoulders and a barrel-chest, almost as intimidating as Dwalin himself, only instead of fierce and dangerous, this Dwarf seemed more…haunted, reserved, and cold. Bilbo had to blink at the ostentatious clothing the Dwarf was wearing, so unlike any of the normal attire he had seen on any of their unexpected visitors. A fur coat of beige draped over a dark-blue tunic worn over shining armor composed of tiny, linked, metal plates with furry boots strapped with leather. But his craggy face, despite being weathered, held dark eyes of blue and black, so deep and piercing that they almost could stare through your soul without effort.

Bilbo suddenly felt hot around his collar as his heart skipped a beat.

The thirteenth Dwarf then spoke in a refined voice that cast shadows, mixed with aristocracy and danger.

"Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door," the Dwarf intoned in a baritone voice.

Gandalf smiled to Bilbo and Lion-O as he declared, "May I present to you, his majesty, Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of our esteemed Company."

Lion-O and Bilbo's eyes both widened. A king? _In Bag End? __**Here?**_

Suddenly, Lion-O felt very small and inadequate, wanting to disappear. By Yavanna, how was he to introduce himself to royalty?! Even the Thain had the ability to make the young lion feel like he was only three inches tall.

In the fairy tales, they were figures of great wisdom and power, responsible, triumphantly able to lead armies against warlords and entities of great evil, beloved by their people, and ruling fairly with a swift eye, a soft and just heart, and a harsh sword against invaders. While he was just…a Baggins of Bag End.

And without a scrap of food left in the pantry. Imagine! Having royalty visit your home without being able to serve him a decent meal!

Lion-O wondered if it was not too much trouble to go running back to the Green Dragon and beg Barmy to buy some food off his stores for the breakfast shift.

"So. **This** is the Hobbit…" Thorin said in a rather dismissive tone before his eyes rested on Lion-O and blinked, taken aback. Though thankfully, to Thorin's credit, he did not back away in fear or caution like most of the other Shire residents had done in the past.

"Although Gandalf has failed to mention you," Thorin murmured, narrowing his eyes in confusion, "You are certainly not one of the Gentle-Folk."

Lion-O sputtered a bit, a bit surprised and incredibly tongue-tied. How was he supposed to respond to that?

Bilbo stepped forward and was about to introduce himself and Lion-O, as proper Hobbit etiquette dictates, when Thorin then rudely butted in, asking if the Hobbit dealt with a sword or an axe. Flushing and a bit bothered, Bilbo answered truthfully that he really preferred conkers. Lion-O wasn't sure if this Thorin even knew how to play (although to be fair, it was a rather addicting game).

Thorin's face grew rather pretentious as he contemptuously sniffed, turning his large nose upwards at Bilbo, "I thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

Lion-O then felt his temper rise and flare precariously. King or not, if there was ever one thing the furry teenager could _**never**_ abide by, it was insults towards his father. Suddenly, the furry Thunderian was less concerned about how to introduce himself and more concerned about introducing Thorin to the door (or nearest wall). Bilbo, sensing the danger, tried to placate his son by getting in front of Lion-O.

"Son, don't - !" was all Bilbo could manage to get out before Lion-O, hackles rising, circumvented his father and strode forward. Lion-O reached out to grab Thorin by the collar of his fur coat and toss him out of their home.

Or Lion-O would have.

Except the sword Thorin drew out and placed directly at Lion-O's neck stopped the teenager from advancing any further. Eyes wide and gulping, Lion-O held his hands up in a submissive manner and backed away slowly from the iron and steel saber, the blade covered with copper runes. It happened so fast that the teenager was taken completely by surprise; he couldn't even recall seeing Thorin draw out his instrument in the first place. Strangely enough, if it wasn't so precariously close to taking his head off, Lion-O would have been in awe at the meticulous and exquisite workmanship of the weapon.

"_Whiskers…_" cursed Lion-O, his eyes crossing slightly as he stared at the sharp metal edges being inches away from severing his jugular, a sure kill. It was now evident that this Thorin was a **very** seasoned and effective warrior.

Thorin raised an eyebrow in slight puzzlement, not sure what to make of Lion-O's one-word response.

The Dwarf with the white hair and white beard (Balin, if Lion-O remembered correctly) walked forward solemnly and chastised gently, "Thorin, stop. We are guests in their house. Please put the sword down for it is rather churlish to draw a weapon against our host."

"Not until this…_thing_ keeps its distance," Thorin rumbled lowly, refusing to let down his guard and wariness as he kept his tarnished sword pointed out at Lion-O's throat. Bilbo wasn't sure what made him angrier: the way that Thorin called Lion-O a "thing" or how he was still refusing to cease and desist in his threat against someone who had never fought with a sword in his life.

Frowning and his nostrils white with anger, Bilbo quickly pushed Lion-O behind him as the Hobbit then addressed his newest guest.

"That is enough," Bilbo said in a hard voice, glaring directly into Thorin's eyes and not caring if Thorin's broadsword was inches from his face, "If you will not sheathe your weapon, you can leave my house and never return to darken it."

"I was merely defending myself, Halfling!" snapped Thorin, lowering his cutlass a bit in mulish reluctance.

"Against an unarmed and gentle Hobbit from the Shire? Who was merely standing up for you insulting me in my own home? Oh, then by all means, you truly do have a reason to feel like you are in danger if my son is an equal match against _your_ skills," Bilbo said with a tinge of mockery. For some odd reason, even though Bilbo was not even raising his voice, his disparagement was truly infuriating Thorin as the Dwarf King's voice became pure snow, cold and blank.

"That thing is no Hobbit, Halfling. He is not only taller than you, but I do not recall Shire-folk having fur and claws."

"**He's my son.** He's as good as any Hobbit," Bilbo said, steel underneath his calm façade.

"I never would have guessed such a soft grocer would be in the habit of picking up strays."

"Why, certainly. After all, that is why I allow you here, _your Majesty_."

They were now staring at each other at a stand-off, almost nose to nose, and despite Thorin being a good foot taller than Bilbo, neither the Hobbit nor the Dwarf were giving in, glaring hotly and their faces crimson for various reasons.

Balin sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, murmuring, "We are going to be kicked out within the next hour."

"At least we had a good dinner," Nori quipped as he chewed thoughtfully on a leftover pork sausage. Dori nodded until he stopped and raised one eyebrow at his younger brother, immediately suspecting and catching on to the easy-going tone of Nori's voice. _Too_ easy-going.

"Put it back, Nori," Dori lectured, not in the mood for any argument. Nori made a wounded face.

"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about," Nori said, hurt.

"_**Now.**_"

There were several tense moments before Nori, now disgruntled, took out the two shiny, copper candlesticks out of one of the hidden pockets in his sleeves and placed it back on one of Bilbo's dressers.

Meanwhile, Lion-O, a bit fearful that Thorin was going to turn his sword on his father, stepped forward and tried to break the tension, getting everyone's attention.

"Father, Thorin has a point. I was going to throw him out, and he reacted like any warrior in danger would. I was in the wrong, especially since Gandalf invited these Dwarves here. Let us simply try to start over with introductions again," the teenager requested. Forget trying to be assertive: anything to prevent bloodshed was preferable, even if Lion-O had to admit to something that was not of his fault. Thorin smirked, satisfied at being in the right while Bilbo, though reluctant, nodded and gave in. Unfortunately, due to the adrenaline and his nervousness, Lion-O made another verbal stumble.

"Lion-O Boggins, at your – confound it, Fíli and Kíli!" groaned Lion-O as he covered his face with one hand, feeling his cheeks flush as the snickering from the background intensified.

Thorin Oakenshield's stern expression was clearly not amused. If anything, he seemed even more unimpressed.

So much for making a good first reception. By Yavanna, this entire night was a complete disaster. Bilbo rolled his eyes with a tired sigh before he briskly made introductions.

"Bilbo Baggins, at your service. This is my son, Lion-O Baggins, also at your service."

Thorin nodded at them both, but much to Bilbo's frustration, he did not return the greeting verbally or the offer for his service likewise. Of all the conceited, overbearing, rude - !

Balin then smoothly joined in before there could be any further arguments.

"Let us all have some dinner. You can tell us how your meeting with the Dwarf Lords went once we get some food in you, Thorin."

Thorin looked incredibly relieved as he set down his pack, murmuring, "That would be most welcome. I have not eaten since yesterday."

Bilbo had to admit that his outrage lessened a bit when he heard that, and Lion-O was a bit concerned. Lion-O nodded as he rubbed his father's shoulder.

"I'll take care of it. Go with Gandalf," Lion-O murmured as he made his way to the kitchen. Unfortunately for Thorin, there wasn't really much food left. The vegetable soup that Lion-O managed to scrounge up with Bilbo's earlier meal had only a small pittance leftover, barely suitable for a child. Thorin wasn't going to have much to eat, but it was evident that he could really use a good…

Lion-O blinked.

Within a few minutes, Lion-O politely set down a steaming bowl of vegetable soup and a sandwich (re-heated in the oven) in front of the Dwarf leader.

"Here, Thorin," Lion-O murmured as he placed the meal in front of the sable-haired Dwarf, "I hope you like bacon and mushrooms. I'll see if there's any ale leftover and bring you a tankard."

Bilbo gave Lion-O an unreadable look, his forehead raised, but thankfully, the Hobbit said nothing. Thorin's face seemed a bit less harsh upon sight of the food, but his voice was still hard as he uttered his response.

"My thanks, Young Baggins. But I must insist that you do not refer to me by my name."

Lion-O blinked in confusion before he hesitantly pointed out, "But…it's your name."

"You have neither the permission nor the privilege to refer to me as such. You are neither a close friend nor kin. Please respect my wishes and refer to me properly as you normally do with your elders."

Lion-O looked put-off, but he realized that the other Dwarves were staring at him, and both Kíli and Fíli were looking a bit uncomfortable, as if they were embarrassed. Dwalin, however, like a true guard and protector, stood tensely next to the seated Thorin with his legs braced apart, as if ready to intervene.

The Thunderian then exhaled wearily. The last thing Bag End needed right now was a fight…

"Very well, then. My apologies…_Master Oakenshield_."

If there was a little bit of resentment in that address, no one commented on it.

"Accepted."

Lion-O now wished he didn't give Thorin the blasted sandwich as he bad-naturedly turned and strode to find something to drink, praying that when he returned, he wouldn't be tempted to toss the ale directly into Thorin's face.

Bilbo was now glaring at Thorin, his nose and ears turning pink.

"I daresay that being a King should not excuse you from having manners or common decency," Bilbo commented in a clipped tone.

"Manners and decency do not get you anywhere in life, Master Halfling," Thorin returned, chewing all the meanwhile and with his mouth full. Bilbo grimaced.

"Clearly, from the way I can see the masticated sandwich," Bilbo highlighted, "I merely thought that perhaps Dwarves such as yourselves would appreciate a stranger treating you with respect and being appreciative enough to show the same respect in return."

"I have not had much experience with strangers showing my family respect, unlike you soft Hobbits."

"Imagine that," Bilbo returned flatly.

As Thorin ate and drank his fill, both Lion-O and Bilbo learned from the rest of the Company about Erebor, an ancient Dwarvish kingdom far west within a grand peak called the Lonely Mountain, brutally taken over by the dragon named Smaug due to the entire palace filled to the brim with gold, jewels, and precious metals and stone architecture. The dragon invaded the kingdom and destroyed the nearby city of Dale, a prosperous citadel of Men where trade, riches, and culture thrived next to the wealthy domain. So attracted and heavily laden with greed, the wyrm desecrated both monuments in a single day, bringing fire and death to innocents and forcing Thorin and his kin to become penniless wanderers and vagabonds, scraping by with minimum wages for food and shelter.

Bilbo had to admit that he could feel quite sorry for the Dwarves, while several such as Gandalf, Balin, and Glóin enjoyed how Lion-O's eyes were shining with wonder and amazement at the stories.

A journey and noble pilgrimage to reclaim a long-lost forgotten empire. It was like something from a fairy tale, only far more exciting because it was being discussed here in Bag End. Imagine! The Took children were going to be _**so**_ jealous of Lion-O when he tells them of their Dwarf visitors tomorrow!

Thorin then sadly informed them that the Dwarven Lords from the neighboring kingdoms refused to send help. Balin noted that the signs of birds and ravens making their way back to the West were signs of hope that Mahal himself was announcing that Durin's blood should start taking back what was stolen from them. Regrettably, the Dwarven Lords declared Thorin's mission to restore the Lonely Mountain as hopeless, still fearful and wary of Smaug even after sixty years. Intrepid, Thorin spoke with pride, glancing at each and every one of the twelve other Dwarves in the dining room before giving his words of encouragement, pride, and hope.

"I will take each and every one of these Dwarves in this Hobbit hole over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon my kin and folk, you came. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart. I can ask no more than that. From any of you. And I am proud of that."

Even Bilbo felt a little moved when he heard that (and Lion-O could see all the eyes of the Company shining with inspiration as they stood a bit taller, their heads held a bit higher with noble cause).

Then Gandalf revealed he had a strange and clandestine key and map bequeathed to himself for safekeeping by Thráin (Thorin's father) before his disappearance, indicating that there was another way to gain entrance to Erebor via a secret passageway. Lion-O blinked as the other Dwarves were immediately excited by the optimistic prospect of triumph, their faith building higher and higher as they clamored excitedly.

"Wait," Lion-O asked, "Why is it you Dwarves cannot simply enter through the front gates to the kingdom when you arrive to Erebor?"

Dwalin (and a few others) looked at Lion-O with disparagement as Dwalin barked out, "Are you deaf, lad?! My brother said that the front gates were locked and sealed in from the inside since the siege of Smaug! And nothing can break a good Dwarvish lock. No magic or blade can ever make their way through our quality handiwork. _**Nothing!**_"

"Except perhaps a dragon," falsely coughed Nori, preening smugly when Dwalin threw the Dwarf thief a murderous glare.

Sensing the embarrassment by Lion-O's abashed face, Balin then softened Dwalin's earlier outburst by pointing out, "Laddie, we are merely a Company of thirteen. Secrecy and subtlety is vital for this mission. Smaug devastated the entire Ereborian army, a force made of thousands of Dwarves with weaponry in a stronghold, and laid waste to our kingdom in a matter of hours. Using the same tactic of direct force and challenge will not work a second time. Hence, a different approach is needed."

"Well, we number thirteen _now_, but we will soon be fourteen now that we have our burglar, do we not?" chimed in Bombur, looking at Lion-O.

"_**Burglar?**_" the furry teenager repeated incredulously as Lion-O blinked when he and Bilbo then noticed all the expectant and pleased looks from their guests. Wait, was this what Nori meant earlier when he said - ?

"He can see in the dark! He helped find Óin's ear trumpet! And he's good friends with Gandalf, so Tharkûn already approves and trusts him! Lion-O will make a wonderful burglar!" cheered Ori, bringing looks of interest from Kíli, Fíli, and Balin, sending Lion-O to new levels of shock, woe, and despair at once. Bilbo sputtered indignantly as the Dwarves then joined in rambunctiously with cheers and hearty welcomes.

"Now – now, see – now see here…I beg your pardon!" the patriarch squeaked in a high-pitched and strangled voice, still befuddled.

Gandalf raised an eyebrow as he intoned, "Young Ori, you are mistaken. I _**never**_ said that it was Lion-O to be the Company's Burglar, although I certainly am hoping that he too shall join the quest. It is his father, _Bilbo Baggins_, who is to be the one to fulfill the role."

This immediately drew an overwhelming uproar, with a good number of the Dwarves either protesting or making loud exclamations of surprise. Thorin, however, remained silent, although Bilbo did not miss the skeptical look he gave as he glanced at the Hobbit.

Lion-O and Bilbo had to wince at the surprising intensity of the sudden shouting, though it was _nothing_ compared to the intensity and power of Gandalf's voice, using his magic to send his tone ripping into their hearts and souls. Sometimes, Lion-O and Bilbo had forgotten that Gandalf could actually be quite scary and menacing when he wanted to be.

Everyone, Dwarf, Hobbit, and Thunderian, could almost imagine the vibrations of the wizard's deep timbre vibrating in the marrow of their bones as he then irately explained his rationale for selecting Bilbo Baggins as the perfect candidate to steal treasure from Smaug. Not only could Hobbits sneak in and out and move with such grace and swift-footedness, they could easily escape detection. Plus, Smaug was not to be underestimated as a fool; he knew and recognized the smell of Dwarf and Men well, but the scent of a Hobbit, a resident from the Shire, would be unknown to him, which would give them a distinct advantage.

Bilbo decided to not interrupt with the fact that he had never stolen anything before in his entire life; he really did not like the stern look on Gandalf's face.

Upon hearing this, quite a few of the Company of Dwarves nodded to themselves, seeing the logic of Gandalf's choice. Thorin (and a few others) remained unconvinced.

Thorin then spoke lowly with suspicion, "That very well may be, Tharkûn. But that explains briefly why we need a _Hobbit_. That does not explain why we need the Halfling's…housecat."

Bilbo and Lion-O frowned, but before Bilbo could say a heated retort back, the wizard's next words stopped him in his tracks.

"Lion-O has visions," Gandalf said softly with a smile, causing both Bilbo and Lion-O to freeze, their backs erect and extremely nervous. Bilbo went even so far as rise out of his chair suddenly, causing his seat to topple backwards to the floor due to the abrupt movement. Not a pleasant mannerism for a respectable Hobbit, but as of that moment, mannerisms were of very little interest to Bilbo as he rounded on Gandalf sternly.

"That is enough, Gandalf! I allow you into my home as a courtesy! That does not give you the right to involve my son in any of your hair-brained schemes or revealing trusted secrets about my family!"

Thorin and his Company were taken aback, to say the least as they glanced at the furry lion-humanoid. Out of all the possibilities they could have guessed, a seer was not one of them. Thorin still seemed displeased, but it seemed that this newest revelation made an impact, for the leader nodded to Balin, his mouth in a tight line.

"Give the Halfling the contract, and make a separate copy for his son," the Dwarf King ordered to the wise Balin (who was sitting on Thorin's right). The white-haired sage nodded before handing a protesting Bilbo a large piece of folded paper.

Frozen with shock and unable to just thrust back the offending written agreement, Bilbo's eyes widened as the folded rectangle of parchment elongated into a scroll of paper that nearly touched the floor. The Hobbit's eyes continued to grow bigger and bigger, nearly popping out of their sockets, as the Baggins patriarch read the contract's terms and depressing fine print. Mentions of responsibilities, caveat conditions, and a one-fourteenth of the treasure of Erebor paled in comparison to terms and provisos of funeral arrangements, injuries due to lacerations, eviscerations, and incineration…

"_Incineration?!_"

Bilbo wondered if perhaps it would be possible to wake up from this never-ending nightmare. The Dwarf Óin squawked upon Bilbo's words.

"'Penetration'?" echoed the Dwarf, mishearing Bilbo's shout due to his deaf ear, "I do not know about you, lad, but I can certainly say that isn't in any of our contracts!"

Then the hat-toting Bofur couldn't help but joke about how Smaug was a furnace with wings, melting flesh easily off bone like dew dissolving from the morning grass, and with a poof and a flash of light, Bilbo would be a pile of ash.

Lion-O was instantly worried as his father's breathing became hyperventilated, how Bilbo's face got paler and paler, draining of blood as Bilbo murmured sickly how he needed air…

"Father, are you all right?" Lion-O asked.

Bilbo took a deep breath and steadied himself before he gave his honest answer.

"Nope," he said lugubriously and toppled over in a faint on the wooden floor.

It could have gone worse. Lion-O could take some sort of solace in that.

Gandalf and Lion-O carried the unconscious Bilbo and set the Hobbit comfortably resting in Bilbo's favorite easy-chair, next to the roaring fire and with a blanket covering his unconscious, frazzled body. Afterward, both Gandalf and Lion-O returned to the dining room and sat down with the Dwarves at the wooden table. Lion-O rubbed his arms, not really enjoying how the other Dwarves were staring inquisitively at him and how Gandalf was not making any effort to start the explanations as he just wordlessly lit his pipe.

After several slow and agonizing minutes of silence, the Thunderian teenager then decided to ease the tension as he sighed and looked up at the thirteen expectant Dwarves and the Gray Wizard.

"Master Dwarves…" Lion-O said hesitantly, "I do not know what else Gandalf has told you, but he's wrong. I haven't had any visions since I was a little child."

"Don't you mean 'kitten'?" snickered Kíli, earning a glare from Lion-O. Fíli, though he couldn't help but smile at the joke, nudged his brother in the ribs to silence him from annoying their hosts. Gandalf didn't seem bothered by Lion-O's counter-argument as he puffed away.

"Am I wrong? Or perhaps, am I wrong for the moment?" Gandalf sidetracked cryptically. Lion-O gave an agonized roll of his eyes in response.

Balin smiled, kind and nonjudgmental, as he asked encouragingly, "Gandalf, Lion-O, exactly how do these visions work? Please, we are curious to know more about Young Baggins."

Gandalf then explained to Thorin and the Company about Lion-O's sight beyond sight, the exact details of the proposed capabilities of premonition, clairvoyance, and being omnispective, causing the hush of awe and contemplation as the Dwarves (even Thorin) looked at Lion-O with interest. Lion-O then (with Gandalf's prodding) told the audience what happened when he was five years of age with the wolves and how he and Bilbo used the vision to stop the packs from attacking Hobbiton.

Although, Lion-O wasn't entirely pleased with Gandalf later on in the conversation…

"_**You placed a spell on me?!**_" exclaimed Lion-O in outrage upon hearing what had been done to him in the past. The Baggins Ward could not help it. He was on his feet, gripping the table with his claws as his fur bristled; a few of the Dwarves such as Bofur and Dori were a bit taken aback by the animalistic growls emanating from Lion-O's larynx. Gandalf frowned at the rudeness, but he conceded that Lion-O would take it as a violation of some sort.

"Lion-O, you were far too young to experience such powers and visions. It would have driven you mad and left you overwhelmed to the point where you would have been mentally and emotionally damaged. I did it so that you would be able to have peace until you were older and strong enough to handle once you came of age. Be mad if you must, but realize that I needed to protect you. That I _wanted _to protect you."

Lion-O bit back his retort, put to shame; he really needed to control his temper…

"_How long shall the spell you cast on Lion-O last?_" Bifur asked, signing and with having Bombur translate for his brother.

"As long as it needs to."

"Can you _ever_ give a straight answer?" demanded Dwalin, growling underneath his whiskers and beard.

"Can I? Certainly. I just choose not to," Gandalf said easily, blowing a smoke plume that turned into a dog, wagging its tail.

"_Damned wizard_," muttered the Dwarf Guard in Khuzdul. Gandalf's reply was, if possible, even **more** irritating.

"I understood that."

Dwalin then gave Gandalf an obscure yet incredibly obscene Dwarvish hand-gesture.

"I understood **that** too."

The priceless look on Dwalin's red face made Ori giggle, causing Dori to shush his younger brother for his impoliteness.

"Wait…" Fíli blinked before the realization came to him, "Lion-O, can't you simply use this…sight beyond sight to see if the dragon is alive, right here and now?"

"Fíli, I don't even know how I invoked it in the first place! I do not know where to start with my…powers! Ugh, that sounded entirely queer to say. But to answer your question, Master Fíli, no, I cannot. I could not control them when I was a child - "

"Kitten," interrupted Kíli, slurping down some ale, and by Yavanna, did Lion-O's hand ball into a fist, coming close to punching Kíli directly in his big mouth. He glared at the dark-haired Prince, mouth set into a line as he inhaled sharply, before he continued in a level, but edged tone of voice.

"And it was only once. I do not think I could even do what you asked if I wanted to."

"And I would not doubt it, either," Gandalf intoned, "You were blessed with a talent that came from higher powers unknown. The faculty of sight beyond sight is both a boon and a danger to anyone irresponsible enough to use it for injustice and selfish gains. If you were meant to have such ability, then you must grow into it, not try to manipulate it to your own whims. In other words, you cannot use the sight beyond sight. **Rather, it is the sight beyond sight that uses you**. Which is why I believe it would be beneficial if you accompany with your father and Thorin on this quest. Not only would your powers give you a chance to help rectify a past wrong, but I have it on good authority that you may discover the answers about your origins and the forbearers who sired and abandoned you."

Lion-O felt his breath catch in his throat as his eyes widened.

"Sired?" Kíli repeated, confused.

"He's adopted. Bilbo is not Lion-O's pater," Dori explained patiently.

"Oh…" blinked the raven-haired Dwarf, and from the tone of his voice, it was clearly apparent that the thought did not occur to him. Fíli sheepishly smiled, embarrassed for his brother, while Thorin grimaced at his nephew's obliviousness.

"You do not know where you are from?" Glóin asked Lion-O, one bushy eyebrow raised.

With that, Lion-O briefly went over the story of how he was abandoned as a babe, how he was left at Bilbo's door with only a note, and how over the years, after failing to discover anything about his heritage or origins, Bilbo adopted Lion-O as his son and raised him for the past eighteen years with no knowledge of the strangers who brought Lion-O to the Shire.

Gandalf just serenely puffed away at his pipe.

There was a contemplative silence as the Dwarves pondered over what Lion-O shared. Ori and Bofur both looked especially sympathetic.

"Sorry to hear that, laddie," Bofur said, sincerely squeezing Lion-O's hand with one of his own, "It would be a hard thing to grow up with."

A thought then struck to Lion-O.

"Actually…" Lion-O murmured as the realization hit him, "Maybe one of you might know! If you all have lived in Erebor and Ered Luin, then perhaps you've come across other people like me or have read stories of something similar! You have traveled further than I ever have, and you've all been to many places and kingdoms! Surely one of you may have come across other lion people!"

But to his disappointment, all the Dwarves, even Thorin, shook their heads.

"We have never seen your kind before, Young Baggins," Balin noted, "In all my experiences with Erebor and Dale, I have never seen or heard of animal races that could walk upright and talk as if blessed by the Valar. Both were cities where there was much trade and relations with caravans and various towns all over the northern regions of Middle Earth, but none ever appeared that looked like you."

Ori piped up with, "What about Huan the Hound of Valinor or Draugluin of the werewolves? They were beasts that had the ability to talk when I read about them in the libraries."

"Doubtful. They were the exceptions to the rule due to the Valar's interventions and only existed in the First Age. Considering that Lion-O is only eighteen years old, it's an impossibility that he was born since then."

"You are certainly an oddity, laddie," Óin remarked slowly, "Never before in any of my studies of ailments have ever mentioned a race of Cats that walk and talk like Men. Being a healer requires me to be knowledgeable and more open-minded about remedies and plants outside my comfort zone and race. I am aware of many poisons, infections, and diseases from Dwarves, Elves, Men, and even Orcs and several animals. Yet I daresay you are an unknown variable, unheard of. The only significant Cat in history was Tevildo, the Prince of Cats, but that would be improbable since you are not a servant of Morgoth."

"_That we know of…_" muttered Bifur secretly to Bofur and Bombur in Khuzdul, although Bofur frowned at that accusation.

Lion-O felt his ears and tail droop in disappointment.

In a surprising show of thought and sensitivity, Fíli then offered, "Lion-O, do not be glum yet. We still may be able to help you if you come on our quest. I'd bet a bag of gold that you will find answers about your mysterious ancestry in the Far Eastern Lands of Rhûn."

"_Why the East? Very little is known about it. No record has ever been written of exploration there,_" Bifur signed. Bombur then understood.

"Because it's the one place where Lion-O and the Rangers have not tried? Because if very little is known about it, then it is far more likely that a walking and talking Lion-Man would originate from there, especially if no Elf, Man, or Dwarf has ever witnessed Lion-O's kind here in Middle Earth?" Bombur asked, his chins wobbling and jiggling as he spoke.

"Exactly!" cheered Fíli, slamming a hand on the wooden table for emphasis, "And it would be easier for Lion-O to make the journey from Erebor after we reclaim it! The Mountain's resources would be the perfect aid! Not only is Erebor closer to the East than the Shire, but the Ereborian Libraries and Halls of Records are vast and can surpass even the detailed archives of the Elves. They go back centuries, perhaps eons, and even originating from the First Age with many ancient tomes and books about the lands of Rhûn and our kin who reside in the Orocarni Mountains. If there's an answer to what our Master Baggins' housecat is, it could be found there or within our clans of brothers!"

Lion-O couldn't help but feel a smile grace his lips; going far beyond East past the unknown Sea of Rhûn? This was truly starting to get more and more exciting…

So much so that he ignored the teasing "housecat" jibe from Fíli.

"You really think so?"

"It _**does**_ sort of make an odd bit of sense," Nori mused as he tucked his tongue in his cheek, "The Eastern Lands are far beyond the patrols and trade caravans of Men, so it would coincide with why the Rangers were not able to discover anything about your past. Very few records know little about what lies beyond the Iron Hills. But four of the great Dwarven Clans still reside in that region, and we Dwarves keep careful notes and watch over our kin and families. We may not share with our knowledge outside of our people, but we are certainly open with our brothers and sisters. If we cannot find anything in Erebor about the possibility of sentient animal races, we certainly may be able to find someone in the Ironfists, Stiffbeards, Blacklocks, and Stonefoots families who _**would**_ know. At the very least, it would broaden your search a bit. And they will be more inclined to help you if we asked them to on behalf of the Durin family. If not, they'll certainly more open to assist you, Young Baggins, if you had a share of Ereborian gold to pay them off with."

"However, we would _**only**_ be willing to share our knowledge and gold with you if you are deemed a Dwarf-friend or one of the Company," implied Dwalin gruffly, making it clear that this gracious opportunity was not going to be given freely.

Lion-O blinked before his face clouded with deep thought.

"Lion-O, do you wish to come with us on this quest for the Lonely Mountain? To see sights and lands that you have heard the Rangers describe to you at the Green Dragon by the fireplace? Would you and your father like to go on **an adventure**?" Gandalf asked with a slight smile, his voice making his last two words sound hushed and sacrosanct, like a rare secret.

The furry teenager blushed, his face hot underneath his fur, as he hurriedly and awkwardly sputtered, "Oh! I…I'm sorry, Master Gandalf, but I cannot! Father wouldn't be able to make the journey, and I cannot risk his life! I won't leave him! You are asking the wrong family. He will not wish to come on this adventure, and neither shall I."

Thorin rolled his eyes in disdainful contempt at the whiny excuse.

There was a soft voice that came from the doorway from behind, startling everyone.

"Lion-O, is this what you want?" Bilbo Baggins asked softly, recovering from his fainting spell and catching up to the serious discussion. It was clear from the lack of confusion on his face that he had been listening in for a good while. Yet before Lion-O could hurriedly utter a denial, Bilbo stopped the teenager with a hand, one corner of his mouth turned upward.

"Perhaps you are wrong when you said I would not want to go on an adventure."

Thorin raised an eyebrow in surprise at Bilbo. He did not expect a soft Hobbit to say that…

Lion-O, upon hearing this, got even more shame-faced and nervous as he weakly sank in his chair, protesting and gabbing throughout.

"Father, I can't! I….Bag End will be empty, and it would raise a lot of fuss with the neighbors and the Thain if we left! Lobelia's always been looking for an excuse to get her hands on our home, and all the other Hobbits will think even less of you than they already do! Respectable Hobbits do not go on adventures, remember? Master Gamgee always said that they would make one late for tea!"

"Lion-O, is this what you want?" Bilbo asked again softly, stepping forward.

Weakly, Lion-O still protested, looking down at the floorboards and trying to convince himself.

"We cannot! It's foolish! It's far too much trouble and danger! It's safer to stay here, home and with our friends and family! I have my job at the Green Dragon, and we have Bag End and everything we could ever want or need! We're happy here! There's no reason for us to leave!"

Gently, the Hobbit took Lion-O's face with his hands and smoothly guided Lion-O's gaze directly into his hazel eyes, getting his son's full attention.

"My son…is this what you want?" Bilbo asked a third time, his voice soft but full of serious emotion. Lion-O couldn't answer as he tried to look for any sign of misgivings in Bilbo's orbs of hazel, but all he saw was acceptance and love in his father's demeanor.

There was a jittery stillness for a good moment.

From the sidelines, the Dwarf Glóin gave a small smile underneath his beard. As a father, Glóin understood exactly what Bilbo's motivations were.

Lion-O hesitated, deep in thought, before he nodded with hope, croaking with building eagerness, "Yes, Father. It is. I…I would love to be reunited with my family. If I can find them."

Bilbo smiled warmly, hoping he managed to hide from his son how badly that statement stung inside and stiffened his body a bit.

Glóin noticed that too, however; and so did Gandalf as the tall wizard stood up and rose from the dining table, cracking his fatigued back.

"Let us all give the two a bit of privacy," the wizard suggested meaningfully, and taking the hint, Thorin and the other Dwarves rose from their seats and nosily clambered out of the area and into the living room, the roaring fireplace giving off its comforting glow and heat.

For several minutes, both Lion-O and Bilbo just remained in the dining room, their foreheads nearly touching as Bilbo stood at his full three feet while Lion-O sat, slouching down in his wooden chair. Still, Bilbo just continued to fatherly hold his son's face, smiling, while Lion-O gently grasped his father's wrists in his furry, clawed hands, contemplative and in deep thought. A part of him wanted to apologize for desiring something dangerous and foolhardy, a part of him wanted to asked if his father truly wished an adventure or if he was merely saying it for Lion-O's sake, and a part of him simply could not boil down to what he was feeling to a single emotion.

It was quiet between Bilbo and Lion-O, centered around the unspoken promise that Bilbo would always support Lion-O no matter what and the horrifying terror of not knowing what was going to happen in the future.

Then the two of them heard Thorin sing.

"_Far over the Misty Mountains cold, to dungeons deep and caverns old…_"

Lion-O and Bilbo both looked up, feeling their souls and spirits being carried over by the baritone words. There was no music, no score of musical instruments like they had previously with the dishes, no uplifting beat and rhythm. And yet it was so enchanting…

"_We must away, ere break of day to find our long forgotten gold._"

No longer did they imagine warm beds, food, and comfort, but rainfall, stone, forges with the smell of ash and metal and red-hot iron. A mountain of gold and jewels, shining quietly under the torchlight shining under the fabled Arkenstone…

"_The pines were roaring on the height, the winds were moaning in the night._"

A breeze fluttered through the chimney, causing the flames in the fireplace of flutter and flicker madly as the night gusts took the embers up to the starlight sky, an endless abyss of black that reminded Lion-O and Bilbo of worlds and lands far beyond Hobbiton…

"_The fire was red, it flaming spread, the trees like torches blazed with light._"

An unexpected journey…

After a few minutes after the song ended, Thorin and his Company along with Gandalf turned to the doorway to see Bilbo and Lion-O standing with conjoined hands. Bilbo smiled as he gave a request.

"Can you give us one day to get our belongings and affairs in the Shire settled before we leave?"

"'_**We**_'?!" echoed several of the Dwarves in unison, catching on. Bilbo smirked, raising one eyebrow.

"I am not letting my son go alone. I will be your Burglar, and my son will assist you and your Company in any way with his sight beyond sight should he be allowed to accompany me."

Balin nodded with a smile. Thorin stood up and addressed the two newest members of his Company as several cheered in the Baggins' response, and Bofur, Ori, and Óin all clapped.

"Sign the proposed contracts, then. And welcome to Company, Master Baggins and Young Baggins."

Lion-O was so excited that he and Bilbo did not notice the flash of displeasure and resignation on the Dwarf King's face.

Gandalf just smiled to himself; even though they were not related by blood, the way their eyes sparkled at the urge of adventure in the same manner made it very obvious that Lion-O was Bilbo's son.

Although the amusement gave away slightly to the pang of sadness and regret in the wizard's heart when Lion-O's earlier words echoed in his head.

_I would love to be reunited with my family._

"Not all reunions will be happy," Gandalf muttered to himself, pretending to not take notice of the two eavesdroppers listening in on their entire conversation in Bag End outside the dining hall window, unnoticed by all the Dwarves.

As much as he hated this, hated what was sure to come, Gandalf knew that they all needed to play their roles in the mission for Erebor.

If what Jaga told him was true, there was no escaping it.


End file.
